


Shrike

by imhereforit



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Escorts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Angst, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, But it's definitely there, Choking, Daddy Kink, Escort Margaery Tyrell, F/F, Fluff, Forced Orgasm, Hair-pulling, Lawyer Sansa Stark, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Nipple Clamps, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Scratching, Smut, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Strap-on blow job, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, it's just a little bit for like two seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2020-09-29 19:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 56,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhereforit/pseuds/imhereforit
Summary: Sansa Stark won’t slow down. Between practically running her family’s company, with the help of Robb and Arya, and her nasty breakup with her ex, Joffrey, Sansa’s life has been work, drink, sleep, repeat. After a particularly frustrating day in the office and Robb telling her to “get laid” so she’ll relax, Sansa drunkenly decides to call an escort service. She never could have predicted the way her life would change after that one night.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the hundreds of Sansa/Margaery fics I’ve consumed, my viewing of the first few seasons of GoT, and the Hozier song, Shrike.
> 
> I know these characters more as I’ve experienced them online than through the books or movies, so if you’re not interested in my interpretation of them, this might not be for you.
> 
> This is my first fic on this site, so input is welcome. Un-beta’d.

The sunlight on her back was warm. She sheets were soft against her skin. The pillow pressed to her cheek was plush, holding her head gently. As she came slowly back to consciousness, Sansa Stark barely recognized what she was feeling. Comfortable. Safe. Warm. Happy. She barely remembered the words for those feelings anymore. She didn’t want to move. The sun pouring in from the window was soothing, warming her bare back-

Sansa froze, eyes flying open. She never slept without a nightgown on. Without moving, she quickly took stock of her body, checking for anything else amiss. Her arms tensed, pressing the pillow she was holding even closer to her cheek. She could tell her hair was a mess from the way she could feel strands framing her face. She usually slept with her hair in a loose braid. Her back was exposed, the sheet lying at her hips. She wasn’t wearing anything else.

She moved her legs closer to the center of the bed, starting to roll over, and her foot bumped something. She stilled, pulling her legs back quickly to the side of the bed. Sansa’s breath quickened, and she pushed herself up on her arms just enough to turn her head to see what was next to her.

Or, as it turned out, whom.

Lying beside her, was the most beautiful woman Sansa had ever seen. She was sleeping, her bare chest rising and falling gently with each breath. Her chestnut hair was spread out on the pillow, framing her face. Her lips were parted slightly, pink and soft. Everything about her felt surreal, and Sansa let out a shaky exhale, searching her memory for who this woman was.

Sansa shut her eyes tight and concentrated, and suddenly everything came back with surprising clarity. The absolutely terrible business meeting with her brother, sister, and a troublesome client. The way she had to come down on her siblings after the meeting for making them sound desperate to a potential client. Her brother’s angry comment as she was walking out the door. “How long has it been since you got laid, Sans? You need to find some good dick soon, because it’s making you a bitch.” The way she drove too fast and too recklessly back to her apartment. The four glasses of whiskey. The crying.

She remembered thinking about Joffrey. The last time she “got laid.” She remembered the whiskey hitting her all at once. But instead of crying this time, crawling into bed and weeping until exhaustion took her, she pulled out her phone. Her personal one, not her work phone. Searched through her old texts with her sister, for the link she sent Sansa as a joke a few months ago. (Damn, were her siblings talking about her like this behind her back?) Pulled up the website for the discreet, professional escort service. One that was safe for people in her line of work to use without fear of compromise.

She remembered calling a number, telling them to send a woman, any woman. Pouring herself another glass of whiskey. Collapsing onto the couch to wait. She remembered the gentle knock at the door. And the face of the gorgeous woman on the other side, the woman asleep across from her.

It was all fuzzy from there. Clothes being shed, skin pressed against skin. Soft lip between her teeth, nails digging into shoulders. Sansa could remember being on her knees at one point, but not why or what came of it. It was all black after that. But there was a peace that settled low in her stomach when she realized it. She was not afraid of what she couldn’t remember. Everything leading up to it told her she was safe.

She opened her eyes, rolling fully onto her side to face the woman. Margaery. Her name was Margaery. She looked so soft. As Sansa’s eyes roamed her body, she noticed the faint purple mark on the side of her neck. The scratches down her arms. As sharp gasp escaped her as she realized she must have been the one to leave them. Had she hurt Margaery? Had she pushed her too far?

Sansa’s gasp was just loud enough to stir the other woman. She groaned as she started to move, the sound sending heat to Sansa’s cheeks. Margaery blinked her eyes open, seeming to be gathering herself, much like Sansa had done moments ago. A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth and she turned to look at Sansa.

“Good morning, little bird,” she whispered, her voice rough with sleep.

“Oh, um, yes,” Sansa stuttered. “I mean, good morning.”

Margaery stared into her eyes for a long moment. Sansa had never seen eyes so blue, so soft. She nearly got lost in them, captivating as they were.

“You don’t remember much of last night, do you?” Margaery’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if she knew that Sansa was moments away from jumping out of bed and locking herself in the bathroom. Sansa just shook her head, her cheeks heating up again, this time with shame.

“It’s alright, little bird,” Margaery said. “You were… awfully intoxicated when I got here.”

“Will you-“ Sansa’s voice caught in her throat. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Margaery’s grin got even wider, and she scooted closer to Sansa. “You were… excellent. A gentlewoman.” Sansa’s eyes flicked down to the purple mark on Margaery’s neck, and Margaery noticed. “Oh, don’t worry. That was… consensual. I promise.” Sansa reached out and ran her finger tips down Margaery’s arms, surprising herself. She traced the lingering scratches.

“Nothing I didn’t ask for,” Margaery supplied, sensing her trepidation. “Although I must say, you took to it quite well. I’m not usually so well-fucked that I agree to stay the night, no matter how cute the client.”

“I asked you to stay?” Sansa asked, for confirmation, not because she would be surprised.

“Practically begged me,” Margaery chuckled. Her smile softened. “You looked so lost after, I just… I couldn’t leave.” She touched her own fingers to her lips, almost like she hadn’t meant to say that last part.

Sansa cleared her throat and sat up. She wondered for a moment if she should cover up, but if they had done as much as it seemed they had, she had no reason to do so. Margaery followed her, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

“If you don’t mind, then, I’ll just be on my way.” Margaery started gathering what were presumably her clothes from the floor, glancing up at Sansa as she did so.

Sansa started to scramble around for her clothes, unsure of whether she should walk Margaery to the door or not.

“Oh, don’t get up on my account,” Margaery said, laughing. “You paid in full before I came. No pun intended.”

Sansa laughed in spite of herself. She tried not to watch as Margaery dressed, glancing only briefly at her pale legs, her soft stomach, her round buttocks. It seemed the heat in her cheeks spread to the tips of her ears, and lower, coiling in her stomach. She wished dearly that she could remember what happened the night before.

Sansa looked quickly away when Margaery met her eyes, even though she was fully dressed by then. Margaery walked towards her, almost stalked to her side of the bed. She leaned down close to Sansa, lips only a breath away. Sansa let out a shaky breath when Margaery’s lips met her cheek.

“Here, take this.” Margaery held a matte black business card out to her as she stood back up. “Call me again sometime.” When Sansa didn’t reach for it, too shocked to move, Margaery dropped the card on the white sheet covering her lap. Without another word she turned and left. It wasn’t until Sansa heard the door shut behind her that she finally took a breath. She picked up the card then. Printed on the front, in silver, was simply the woman’s name: Margaery Tyrell. When Sansa flipped it, she found a phone number. It didn’t look familiar, so she guessed it was her personal line.

Tossing the card over on the bedside table, Sansa flipped back onto her stomach, groaning loudly into her pillow. She lay still for a moment, trying to remember any other details she could about her night with Margaery. But nothing she couldn’t remember anything else. Her imagination had a will of its own though, and it soon filled in the gaps in her memory. Sansa couldn’t help it. Within moments, she slipped her hand beneath her, down her stomach, to the growing slickness between her legs. It wasn’t long before she was coming, images of Margaery’s mouth on her neck and hand on her breast filling her mind as she brought herself over the edge with her own fingers.

As she came down, she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. Her brother would never believe this, not in a million years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa can’t stop thinking about Margaery, and Arya notices.

The door to Sansa’s office flew up without a knock. Arya bust in, flopping into one of the armchairs before Sansa’s desk. Somehow no matter what she was wearing, she always managed to look disheveled. Her dark navy suit jacket was unbuttoned, her tie askew, and her vest clearly abandoned sometime in the day. She crossed her ankles and tossed her legs over the arm of the chair so she was lounging sideways. Of course, she had left the door open.

They stared at each other for a long minute, Arya grinning a sly grin, and Sansa with a blank expression, chin in her hands.

“Well, come on!” Arya finally said, loud enough that Sansa’s secretary turned to peek in the door. “Spill it already!”

“Oh gods, Arya, would you lay off it!” Sansa was exasperated. Arya had been pestering her all day, in three separate meetings about what she claimed was “odd behavior” from Sansa. “There is nothing going on. Would you please leave my office? I actually have work to do. I’m surprised you don’t.”

Arya huffed and climbed out of the chair. Expecting her to leave, Sansa went back to the case notes she was studying, not looking up when the door closed. But the huff of air when Arya plopped back down in the chair made Sansa roll her eyes. Clearly she wasn’t going to let this go.

Sansa put her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. She closed her eyes and sighed. “What in gods names are you after, Arya?”

“I just wanna know,” Arya said in a sing-song voice, her grin never leaving her face, “When you got dicked down so good that you had nothing to say in the meeting with Baelish Enterprises.”

Sansa blushed immediately, gasping at Arya’s foul language. “Gods Arya! That is ridiculous! I never- you can’t just say- that has nothing to do with it!”

“Ha!” Arya shouted, scrambling to sit upright in her chair. “So you admit it!”

Sansa blush only deepened. She knew she was caught, but she refused to admit it.

“Oh, come on, Sansa! I told you all about fucking Gendry!”

“And I didn’t want to know a word of it!”

Arya shook her head. “Regardless, I shared my experiences with you, it’s only fair you share with me, your only sister! Now, who was he? Did you meet him at a club? Do you even go to clubs?” Arya gasped. “Did you go to a club without me?!”

“Gods, Arya, keep it down!” Arya was practically shouting, and Sasna didn’t want her secretary to hear her. She was quite the gossip. “I didn’t meet her at a club, settle down.”

“Oh. My. Gods.” Arya covered her mouth with both hands, but her grin was still visible behind them. Sansa dropped her hand onto her desk, realizing what she had said. When did I become so loose-lipped? I’m a lawyer, a bloody good lawyer, at that! she thought to herself.

“Sansa. Stark. You have to tell me now!” Arya was leaning so far forward Sansa thought she might just fall out of her chair. “You fucked a girl? What happened? Did you scissor? Was it better than Joffrey? How long have you liked girls? Have you ever fucked a girl before? Does mum know?”

Sansa slammed her palm on her desk. “Arya Stark, if you do not shut up right now I am calling security and having you escorted from the building!” Arya didn’t say another word, but she stared up at Sansa expectantly. Sansa knew there was no way around this conversation now.

She took a deep breath, and blurted it all out at once. “IwasreallydrunkokayandIcalledanescortservice.”

“I’m sorry.” Arya sat up straight and shook her head in disbelief. “I could have sworn you just said you called an escort, but I know that can’t be right.”

“Arya….” Sansa whined. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

One corner of Arya’s mouth turned up in a grin. “Well by the gods. My sister hired a hooker. Sansa I-have-a-stick-up-my-arse Stark hired a hooker.” She laughed, barely keeping it together while Sansa glared at her, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m sorry, Sansa,” she said as she finally calmed herself. “I just- it’s rather unbelievable, you have to admit. You really hired an escort?”

Sansa groaned, laying her head back on her desk again. “I know, I know. I can’t believe it either. The worst part- the worst thing is, I can barely remember it!” Arya laughed again. “It’s not funny, Arya! I finally have sex after Joffrey, and even then I have to get so drunk to do it, I can’t even remember it in the morning!”

“Oh, that is terrible,” Arya said between giggles. “What a shame!”

“It really is!” Sansa insisted. “She was fu- she was gorgeous, okay? If I hadn’t woken up naked in bed with her, I wouldn’t believe it either.”

“So pretty, she almost made you curse at work!” Arya chuckled. “She must have been a real hottie.”

“You have no idea. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. What I can remember of her. I want to see her again, but I feel so embarrassed.” Sansa didn’t mean for that last part to come out. But she hadn’t meant to say a lot of things she’d said in the past ten minutes.

“Well, call her,” Arya said matter of factly. “See her again.”

“Oh, gods, no,” Sansa stammered. “I couldn’t do that. I mean, she left me her card, but I can’t. I just can’t. She’s fucked me, and I can’t even remember what happened. I’d look like a complete fool.”

Arya stood up abruptly. “Well, fine then. But don’t cry to me about it anymore. You know I hate when people sulk over things they could change.”

Sansa sighed again when Arya walked out the door. She had sighed more in the 24 hours since she had slept with Margaery than she had in her life so far. She shook her head, trying to clear it so she could finish going over the case before she went to her next meeting.

It was going to be a long day.

Sansa didn’t get home to her apartment after 11:00pm. She had stayed late to work on the case defending Baelish Enterprises against three new lawsuits. Gods, she wished she had paid more attention in that meeting.

She had hoped that as time passed she would be less distracted by thoughts of Margaery. But clearly that wasn’t going to be the case. She couldn’t stop thinking about her. The moments she had before Margaery woke, the glimpse of body while she dressed, the flashes of memory of her body pressed to Sansa’s…. They filled her mind until she could think of nothing else.

Her shoes were not even off before she was pouring herself two fingers of whiskey. She slipped Margaery’s card out of her pocket, where it had been all day. One corner was slightly bent from where she had been fiddling with it idly. She flipped it over and over in her hand, tracing Margaery’s name with her eyes, then flipping it to read her number. She practically had it memorized at that point.

There’s no point in calling, she thought. What’s the likelihood she’ll be free two nights in a row? 

But she couldn’t stop thinking about it. And Sansa knew that when she fixated on something, there was nothing she could do to get it out, but to give in.

Before she could convince herself not to, she pulled her cell from the pocket, and dialed the number. It only rang twice before a breathy voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Yes, um- hi. Hello. Um. This is Sansa. We met- you came over last night?” Sansa had never in her life been so ineloquent.

“Ah, yes. I remember you,” Margaery said. Sansa could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m surprised you remember me.” Her teasing made Sansa smile for the first time since that morning.

“Did you need something?” Sansa started when she realized she had never said anything more.

“Oh, yes, well,” she stammered. “I was hoping- er, rather, I wanted to find out if you were… available this evening. I’m not drunk again. I promise.”

“I hadn’t expected a call so soon,” Margaery purred. “You’re in luck, though. I am currently indisposed. Do you want to take care of this like last time?”

“Er, no, I have cash.” So Sansa stopped at an ATM on her way home. That didn’t mean she had been planning on this. “You can just… you can come right over.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you in twenty.” And with that she was gone. Sansa scrambled to her feet, hurrying to her bathroom to check herself in the mirror. Her makeup was smudged and faded from the long day at work. Her clothes were rumpled, and her hair was frizzy from the way she had been running her fingers through it all day.

She quickly downed her glass of whiskey and set to freshening up. She didn’t want to look like she had dressed up for Margaery, but she also did not want to look like a tired mess. She pulled her hair back loosely, washed her face, and reapplied just enough makeup to look put together. She brushed her palms over her dress slacks, considering changing into something less I-just-got-back-from-the-office, but a soft knock at the door stopped her.

She took a deep breath, nodded at herself in the mirror, and went to the door.

Margaery took her breath away. She was dressed simply, in a forest green dress that hit her just above the knees and was cut low enough to leave some cleavage visible. Her hair was pulled back, her makeup subtle. If someone had asked Sansa to describe what she imagined an escort would look like, Margaery would not have fit the description. Margaery was the most beautiful woman Sansa can ever remember seeing. Though her clothes were simple, her attitude dripped seduction. Her eyes were gleaming, and the way she dragged her eyes down Sansa’s body made Sansa hot all over.

“Hello, Sansa,” she said lowly, voice barely above a whisper. It made Sansa shiver. Margaery must have noticed, because she smirked at her.

That broke Sansa from her momentary stupor. She stepped out of the doorway. “Please, come in.” Margaery stepped in past her, but not without brushing her hand over Sansa’s hip.

“Would you like a drink?” Sansa offered. Margaery shook her head, and Sansa didn’t move to make herself a drink.

“This must be awkward for you, Sansa,” Margaery said, as she stepped closer to her. “You can hardly remember what happened last night, and I already know what your face looks like when you come.”

Sansa shivered again. Margaery was close enough to feel it, she was sure. Sansa sighed a shuddering sigh, her lips staying parted. Her brain was shorting out. All she could do was try to keep breathing, and try not to stare so blatantly at Margaery’s lips.

“I already know the weight of your breasts in my hands. The feel of your right cunt around my fingers. The way you keen when I slide my tongue against your neck. I know how to drive you crazy. And you can’t remember a damn thing.”

Sansa was panting. Her hands shook at her sides. She clenched them into fists to keep from grabbing Margaery. All she wanted was to press their lips together, mold her body to Margaery’s, but she was frozen. She could barely think, much less move. She was so turned on, she could already feel the slickness gathered between her legs. She couldn’t remember this part, the way it began. What was she supposed to do?

Before she could second guess herself further, Margaery leaned in close. She could feel her breath against her ear. “Would you like to remember?” Her voice was hardly more than a breath against her ear, and Sansa couldn’t hold back any longer.

All it took was a slight turn of her head and she caught Margaery’s lips against hers. Heat seared through her body when they touched. Margaery’s lips were as soft as they looked, and they slid against Sansa’s gently but firmly.

Sansa couldn’t remember ever feeling so much from such a simple kiss. In that brief moment, her blood turned to fire in her veins. She pressed hard and suddenly into the kiss, tongue licking out to taste Margaery’s lips. Her hands grabbed hard to her hips, pulling her close and spinning them both, her body pressing Margaery against the door.

When Margaery let out a soft gasp against her mouth, Sansa seized her opportunity, slipping her tongue against Margaery’s. It was Sansa’s turn to gasp when Margaery threw her arms around her neck and pulled her deeper into the kiss. She let Sansa’s tongue ravage her mouth, tasting her fully and deeply.

Sansa let her hands move of their own accord. She slid her right hand up Margaery’s side, grazing her breast, and her left moved slowly lower until it rested firmly on her ass. Margaery groaned, pressing her chest further into Sansa’s touch. Taking that as encouragement, she let her hand rest more fully on Margaery’s breast, feeling her nipple harden against her palm. With her left hand, she pulled Margaery’s hips flush against her. 

Margaery broke their kiss with a gasp. Before Sansa could ask if she was okay, her mouth was on Sansa’s neck, kissing and licking up to pull her earlobe between her teeth, then down to her collarbone.

Without thinking, Sansa grasped Margaery’s ass with both hands, and lifted. Margaery broke away from her neck with a squeal, and Sansa couldn’t help but laugh. Then Margaery’s legs were wrapped around her waist, the pulsing heat between her legs pressed against Sansa’s stomach. 

Their eyes locked as Margaery rocked into her.

“Bedroom?” Sansa groaned.

“Bedroom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won’t usually post two chapters in one day, so you’re welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time, Sansa’s going to remember getting laid.

Margaery pressed herself closer to Sansa as she stumbled toward the bedroom. Her hands tangled in Sansa’s hair, pulling gently as she pressed her mouth against Sansa’s. Sansa moaned into her mouth, letting her head be pulled closer to Margaery by the hand in her hair.

In the doorway to her bedroom, Sansa stumbled as Margaery sunk her teeth into her lower lip. She squeezed hard on Margaery’s ass, angling Margaery’s hips to grind harder against her stomach. With Margaery’s skirt hiked up to her waist, Sansa could feel the heat between Margaery’s legs against her, and it made her shiver and pull her closer. She wanted her closer, with nothing between them. She had to get her to the bed first.

Sansa broke away from the kiss and looked over Margaery’s shoulder. The bed was only feet away. She could make it. But Margaery’s mouth was on her neck again, sucking and biting at the place she had found where her shoulder and neck met, the place that made Sansa’s knees go weak.

With a concentrated effort, Sansa pushed off the door frame she had been leaning on and stumbled on towards the bed. It only took a few steps until she felt her knees hit the mattress. She leaned forward, into Margaery’s mouth against her throat, and set her down on the bed. She moved her hands from Margaery’s ass to her hips, slipping her dress up further to grasp at her bare skin. Sansa thought she’d never felt something so soft as the place where Margaery’s hips met her waist. She never wanted to stop touching her.

But Margaery squirmed out of her grip, inching further up the bed until Sansa was forced to follow. Sansa reconnected their lips, surging her tongue into Margaery’s mouth to taste her again. Margaery sat up to meet her, and Sansa settled into her lap. The pressure of Margaery against her cunt sent a jolt of heat through her, and she moaned into the kiss. Margaery pushed and pulled at her shirt, and before she knew it, her shirt was gone and Margaery was reaching behind her to unhook her bra.

Sansa wanted Margaery’s dress off. She wanted to see her body, to really see her, like she was too embarrassed to that morning. When Margaery slipped her bra from her shoulders, Sansa reached for the hem of her dress, but she was halted by a hot, wet touch on her nipple. Margaery looked up into Sansa’s eyes as she slid her tongue around her hard nipple, then caught it between her teeth. Sansa’s eyes rolled back and she shut them hard as she groaned, loud. Margaery’s mouth was hot and wet, her tongue rolling around and around her nipple, teeth dragging and pulling. She pulled away with a wet pop, and switched to her other breast. Her fingers tugged at Sansa’s still wet nipple as sucked and licked at the other. 

Sansa has never had anyone pay such attention to her breasts. She had no idea she could feel so good from a mouth on her tits. She thought maybe, if she pressed her cunt into Margaery just right, she might be able to come right then. 

Margaery must have been able to sense it, because she pulled away again. She looked up into Sansa’s eyes, her blue eyes shining with mischief. Before Sansa could question her, she was being flipped on her back, Margaery’s arms around her waist pulling her over. She slipped her thigh between Sansa’s leg and rocked her hips hard into her. Another groaned slipped from Sansa. 

“It’s good to know you’re as loud sober as you were drunk,” Margaery whispered into her neck as she pressed kisses against her skin. Sansa didn’t think she could blush any more, but she did.

“I’m not-” Another groaned pour from her lips as Margaery laved her tongue at that place where her neck met her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, darling, what was that?” Sansa could feel Margaery’s grin against her neck.

“Take your dress off,” Sansa breathed against Margaery’s ear.

Margaery sat up, still straddling Sansa’s hips, and pulled her dress over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra. As she tossed the dress aside, Sansa reaches for her hand, pulling her down and up, so her breasts were level with Sansa’s face.

With one hand, she brought Margaery’s breast to her mouth, pressing the flat of her tongue against her pink, hard nipple. Margaery sighed, and Sansa slipped her hand between her legs, dragging her finger tips across Margaery’s panties. She didn’t expect them to already be soaked through. She groaned around the breast in her mouth. The fingertips grazing her folds and the vibrations against her breast took Margaery by surprise and she pressed her hips into Sansa’s hand.

Without thinking, Sansa slipped two fingers past the edge of Margaery’s panties, through the slick heat gathered at her opening, and deep inside her.

Margaery froze, and for a moment Sansa worried that she’s done something terribly wrong. But before she could pull her mouth from Margaery’s nipple to ask if it was okay, Margaery was grinding down hard on her hand. She push up and threw her head back, riding Sansa’s fingers, clearly enjoying herself. 

“Fuck, darling. I thought- I thought I was being paid to fuck you, not the- not the other way ‘round,” Margaery said, her voice higher than before, strained with the effort of fucking herself on Sansa’s hand. Sansa stroked deeply inside of her, reaching up to palm at her breast. 

Sansa tried to give a sexy response, but she could hardly catch her breath with how turned on she was, much less speak. With every thrust of her hips to aid Margaery in fucking herself, Sansa was reminded of her own wetness. But gods, she refused to stop until she watched Margaery come.

Wrapping her free are quickly around Margaery’s hips, she flipped them over. She wasn’t normally so… toppy in bed. But she wanted Margaery squirming beneath her. She wanted to fuck her into the bed. She’s think about why later.

When her back fit the bed, Margaery let out a sharp exhale, but was panting for breath quickly when Sansa began thrusting into her. She was in a much better position to stroke that spot that made Margaery’s eyes rolls, that made her breath catch in her throat.

Sansa’s hand was covered in her wetness, and as she pulled out she slipped a third finger in. Margaery’s mouth dropped open, her eyes squeezed closed, and she reached up to grasp at Sansa’s shoulders desperately.

“Oh gods- oh- oh fuck!” Margaery shouted. For a moment Sansa was worried the neighbors might hear, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. All she could do was thrust her fingers deep into Margaery’s tight, wet cunt and watch her face as she groaned in pleasure.

Margaery was truly the most beautiful woman Sansa had ever seen. It wasn’t just the way her eyebrows scrunched up as she thrust her hips up to meet Sansa’s fingers, or the way her soft, pink lips parted with each breathy exhale. It was more than just the sweet, rosey blush the tinged her cheeks and shining blue of her eyes when they met Sansa’s.

It was more than the way Margaery looked while Sansa fucked her. There was something… ethereal. Something royal about her. The way she held herself when she stood at Sansa’s door. The way she graceful gathered herself that morning when she left Sansa. The peaceful way she slept, like nothing in the world could bother her. 

“Oh, Sansa, please.” She was jarred out of her musings by Margaery’s desperate voice. 

“Pleas, Sans, please. I- I need to come, please….” Her moans filled the room, and Sansa leaned in to take her nipple into her mouth as she sped up her thrusts. The wet heat and teeth on her nipple and the pressure against the sweet spot inside her were enough to push Margaery over the edge. Her back arched like a bow, and her mouth fell open. For a long moment, the two of them were suspended in time as Margaery’s orgasm rushed through her. Then she collapsed on the bed, gasping for air, and throwing her arms around Sansa shoulders, pulling her down into her. 

Sansa strokes her through the aftershocks, gently bringing her down. Margaery cling to her, face buried deep in Sansa’s neck, as she struggled to steady her breathing.

“Fucking hell, Sansa,” Margaery whispered as Sansa withdrew her fingers from her cunt. “You- fuck. How did- wow. Fuck.”

“I’m guessing I wasn’t quite so impressive when I was drunk,” Sansa said through a grin, finding her voice again.

“No, darling, I’m afraid you weren’t.” Margaery smiled up at her. Not one of those sly smiles Sansa had seen so far. A genuine one. Like she might actually be happy. She stirred under Sansa, pressing her thigh up against Sansa’s core. 

Sansa groaned deeply, head falling and arms shaking with effort of holding herself up. Another press of her leg, and Sansa collapsed on Margaery. Margaery didn’t seem to mind.

“Let’s get you out of those trousers,” Margaery purred against her ear.

Sansa had forgotten she even had them on. Margaery pushed at her shoulders and Sansa took the hint to roll over. Margaery’s fingers made quick work of the button and zipper, and she pulled quickly, taking both Sansa’s trousers and panties in one pull.

Sansa hissed as the cool air met the excessive wetness between her legs. Margaery’s attention caught there, too. As she slipped the last of Sansa’s clothes down her legs, Margaery wouldn’t break her gaze away from Sansa’s slick folds. Sansa’s breath hitched at the look of hunger in Margaery’s eyes. She’d never had someone’s mouth so close to her cunt, and it took her breath away. Margaery leaned in, her breath grazing the wet skin. Sansa reached down, putting her hand on Margaery’s shoulder to stop her.

“You don’t- it’s okay,” she exhaled, her breath shuddering in her chest. Every whisper of breath from Margaery lips set her nerves on fire, but Sansa didn’t want to subject Margaery to… to that.

“What are you talking about?” Margaery said, eyes finally meeting Sansa’s. “Do you not want-”

“No! No, it’s not- it’s not that.” Sansa didn’t want to say it. “I’m sorry, I know- I know I’m paying you, but…. Well, I know it’s not pleasant, so…. You don’t have to… to put your mouth there.”

Margaery’s brows furrowed, and she moved slowly so her eyes were level with Sansa’s.

“Who told you that licking your pretty cunt was unpleasant? Because I’d like to punch them in the mouth.” Margaery’s face was full of concern, and her hand came up to touch Sansa’s cheek.

“It’s- no one, in particular.” Sansa couldn’t bring herself to tell her, to relive the look on Joffrey’s face the one time he had tried for approximately 5 seconds before gagging and rushing to the bathroom to rinse his mouth out. She didn’t want to think about the way he had made her feel dirty and perverted for even asking.

“I just- I don’t want to feel like you have to because I’m paying you.” Sansa looked down, worried that maybe she had ruined everything. Again.

“Oh, little bird,” Margaery smiled gently at her, and Sansa couldn’t help the way she pressed her cheek into Margaery’s hand. “I don’t feel like I have to. I want to. I desperately want to eat you out. Please, darling,” she said, turning Sansa’s head so she had to look at her.

“Will you let me eat you out?” Sansa couldn’t say no. She simply nodded.

“Only if you really want to.”

Before she knew what was happening, Margaery was back on her stomach between her legs, breath grazing her mound again. She looked up at Sansa, lifting Sansa’s legs to bend her knees and let them fall further apart. Without breaking eye contact with her, Margaery slipped her tongue out and dragged it through her.

Sansa couldn’t keep her eyes open, she threw head back and groaned, her hand shooting out to Margaery’s head, tangling in her hair. She couldn’t stop herself. As Margaery lapped gently at her wetness, Sansa’s moans filled the room.

Never had she felt such ecstacy. Her toes curled into the sheets, and her legs spread wider, making room for Margaery. Her tongue danced around Sansa, licking her pussy lips, gathering the growing wetness from her opening, sliding just past her clit. Even without the direct contact on her clit, Sansa thought she had died and gone to Heaven.

Then Margaery’s tongue flicked her clit, and Sansa’s hips bucked, her fingers fisting in Margaery’s hair. Margaery groaned into her cunt, and Sansa clenched around nothing. One more touch like that and she was going to fall over the edge.

The fingers tangled in her hair only encouraged Margaery, and she plunged her tongue into Sansa. Sansa couldn’t stop herself from pulling Margaery’s face closer to her and grinding her hips against her tongue. She had never felt so good, and it was all she could think of to keep chasing that feeling.

Margaery’s face was covered in her wetness, and it was coating the inside of Sansa’s thighs. Everything was heat and wetness and the building pressure her stomach. Sansa knew if Margaery would just lick her clit once more, she would come.

“Please, fuck- please!” Sansa could barely do more than beg. “Please, please, fuck, please, fuck, please let me come!”

Sansa could feel Margaery’s grin against her cunt as she slipped her tongue out of her, and licked up to her clit. With one hard press of her tongue on Sansa’s clit, she was coming hard on Margaery’s face.

Sansa stopped breathing, her hips frozen in the air as Margaery kept lapping at her clit, driving her orgasm on and on and on. Her hand never left Margaery’s hair, holding her tight against her until it was too much. She pulled on Margaery’s hair, lifting her mouth away from her.

Margaery rolled onto her back and shimmied up the bed. She curled into Sansa’s side, one arm over her stomach and her cheek pressed into her shoulder. For a long moment they both lay still, trying to catch their breath and gather themselves.

“Sober Sansa is just as sexy as drunk Sansa, but much better in bed.” Sansa laughed at Margaery’s comment, a full and loud laugh, like she hadn’t laughed in a long time.

“I’m sure Sober Sansa is better at a lot of things than drunk Sansa,” she said, turning her head to meet Margaery’s eyes. Margaery was smiling at her, eyes bright and soft. Sansa leaned closer, pressing her lips to Margaery’s.

The kisses they shared were softer than the rest, languid and lazy. Sansa got lost in them.

Until she wasn’t so lost. Until the pressure that had been released just moments ago started to throb again, pulling her attention between her legs again. She rolled Margaery onto her back, rolling on top of her. She nestled her knee between Margaery’s legs, pressing into her core, smearing her wetness against her thigh. Margaery sighed against her lips, and rocked into Sansa as they kissed.

Margaery slipped her tongue into Sansa’s mouth, exploring her. Sansa pressed her hand to Margaery’s side, caressing the soft skin beneath her fingertips.

“Margaery,” Sansa moaned into the kiss. “I think-” She pulled back. “I think I’d like to try… I’d like to taste you. Like you did to me.”

“Oh, really? Enjoyed it that much?” Margaery had a sly smile on her face, but her voice was breathy with need.

“Please, Margaery.” Sansa was getting desperate. She pressed her hips to Margaery’s and gripped her hip tight.

Margaery leaned up to kiss her, pulled her lip between her teeth. “Only if you let me pull your hair.”

“Oh yes, please,” Sansa moaned, pressing her lips hard to Margaery’s. Margaery’s hand came up to tangle in her hair.

She gripped tight, pulling her head back from the kiss. Their eyes locked, Sansa’s mouth open, panting.

“Well?” Margaery said. “Get to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please leave a comment or kudos, I live for it. If you have any thoughts, suggestions, or anything, let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping with Margaery again didn’t help Sansa relax. It did just the opposite.

Sansa could barely keep her eyes open. Her whole body was sore, her cunt so sensitive she could hardly close her legs. She knew her neck was probably littered with the bruises Margaery had sucked into her skin. She rolled onto her side, checked her phone on the bedside table. 3:30am.

“Good night, little bird,” Margaery said, pulling Sansa’s attention to her. She strode across the room to Sansa’s side, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“How are you able to walk out of here?” Sansa said, lips still pressed to Margaery’s.

“Practice, darling.” She winked at her and turned away, taking the envelope from the dresser Sansa had pointed out to her a few minutes ago.

“Margaery,” Sansa said, sitting up a little from her place in bed. “This won’t be happening again.”

Margaery stopped on her way out of the bedroom, turning around to face Sansa. Her expression was blank, her face unreadable. When she didn’t say anything, Sansa pressed on.

“The last night, I was- well, I was drunk. And I only called you tonight because I couldn’t remember what happened and it was bothering me so much, so I called again to so if it was as good as my imagination. But since, you know, we’ve done it again, and I’m sober I won’t- I won’t need to see you again.” Sansa took a deep breath. That was probably more than she needed to say.

Margaery smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Alright, then, little bird,” she said gently. She looked like she wanted to say more, but she only turned away to leave.

“Thank you,” Margaery said over her shoulder, stopping for a moment to look at Sansa one last time. “No one has ever… You were kind. Thank you.”

With that she was leaving, out the door in moments.

Sansa fell back onto the pillows with an exasperated sigh. She shouldn’t feel bad. This was Margaery’s job. She didn’t need to feel bad about anything. Like Margaery said, she was kind to her. That was all she owed her.

But the way she had said it made Sansa wonder…. Was she so unused to someone reciprocating that it was worth thanking her for? Were the others that paid her so selfish that it was rare for someone to actually care about her pleasure?

It made Sansa think about who Margaery’s other clients were. Probably men in their 40s and 50s, sick of their wives and looking for someone to “spice things up.” Clients who wanted a quick fuck to blow off steam on a business trip. People looking for nothing but their own pleasure. 

That’s what Sansa imagined, at least. Something dismal enough to make the care Sansa had shown Margaery something worth thanking her for.

Sansa rolled onto her stomach and groaned. She was probably overthinking it. It was presumptuous to assume she was the only “good client” Margaery had. She needed to sleep. She double checked her alarm to make sure it was turned off. She was so glad it was finally the weekend.

Turns out, the weekend was nearly as relaxing as Sansa had hoped it would be. Weekends never were. Petyr Baelish, CEO of Baelish Industries was being sued for harassment by three different former employees, and since he was a client of Stark Law Firm, she was obligated to help defend him. Most of the Stark firm’s clients were good people, good companies. But Baelish was not always a model citizen. Because he was an old friend of their mother’s, the Starks couldn’t turn his business away.

Sansa had spent the whole weekend pouring over her notes on the case. Her brother, Robb, had even come over to review some of the material with her. Robb had taken over as head of the firm when their father had passed away unexpectedly from cancer four years before. That had rocked the family. For a while they weren’t sure if they would keep the firm open. Their father had been an incredible lawyer, generous and kind, but firm and just. He was a wolf in the courtroom, people had said.

But with three lawyers in the family, they had decided to keep it up. Robb was most like their father, and he had been the one to carry them through. Arya, her sister, was undefeated in the courtroom. She didn’t take on many cases, but when she did, she was like an assassin. She never lost. And Sansa was quick, she was clever, but she was unbending. When she made a decision she stuck to it. That’s why she did more of the office work than the actual lawyering most times. Most people said she had a stick up her ass (behind her back of course). But she was good at what she did, so no one was brave enough to call her out. Except Robb and Arya.

Sansa didn’t want to be working the Baelish case. She wish Arya would take it, but Arya refused. She had said it was going to be a mess, and she was right. Besides, Petyr liked her for some reason, so he might be more likely to make a deal if Sansa worked with him.

But that wasn’t even the worst part of the weekend. The worst part of the weekend was the way she couldn’t stop thinking about Margaery. She was thinking about whether she was seeing other clients. Did Margaery get a weekend off. Was she always on call? What were her other clients like? Did they treat her well?

Sansa lost hours of her weekend daydreaming about the night they’d had together. The way her skin was so soft against Sansa’s. The gentle way she had held her after she’d come a second time against Margaery’s mouth. The way her body responded when Sansa filled her again and again with her fingers, bringing her to orgasm three times. The way Margaery had placed a firm hand around her throat, just enough pressure to be noticeable, as she came on Margaery’s fingers. Twice, when she had gotten to the memory, she had hurried to her bed and gotten herself off to the memory of Margaery’s delicate fingers at her throat.

Who have I become? Sansa thought to herself as she lay in bed Sunday night, two orgasms already, thinking about Margaery’s lips on her skin. I never thought about sex before, and now I can’t stop.

She didn’t want to be so distracted. She wanted to go back to the way things were, but more relaxed. Robb and Arya had both teased her, saying she needed to get laid so she could relax. But sleeping with Margaery had only made her more frustrated, irritated, and honestly downright angry.

Before she realized what she was doing, she was dialing Arya, her phone pressed to her ear.

She answered after two rings.

“What’s wrong?” Arya said, sounding out of breath and almost scared.

“What? Nothing’s wrong. Why would something be wrong?” Sansa frowned.

“You never fucking call me, especially not at 10pm.” Arya sounded irritated. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I wouldn’t go that far….” Sansa didn’t know how to explain her predicament. She and Arya were close, but not talk-about-sex-and-relationships close.

“Is this about that girl? Did you see her again?” Of course Arya would get excited when she thought it was about Sansa seeing a girl.

Sansa sighed loudly into the phone. That was answer enough for Arya.

“You dog! You did see her again! How was it? Do you actually remember it this time? Was she good? Were you good? Did she ear-”

“Enough! Let me talk, okay?” Sansa sighed again. “Yes, I did see her again, and I thought it would get her out of my system, but I can’t stop thinking about her! The sex was amazing, and she was really sweet. And she’s gorgeous. And her eyes make my heart stop whenever I look at them. And her body is- wow.”

Arya laughed. “Ha! You’re in love with a hooker!”

“She’s not a hooker, Arya, stop that! She’s much classier. She’s an escort. She’s not some sleazy girl from the red light district or something. She’s a professional.”

“So you are in love though?” Sansa could hear Arya’s sly grin through the phone.

“I don’t even know why I called you.” Sansa nearly hung up on her right then.

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up! I’ll be cool.” Arya’s voice got serious for a moment. “Why did you call me though?”

“I don’t really know. I thought maybe you’d know what to do. You fucked Gendry that one time and then just cut him off. I thought maybe you’d have some advice for-”

A muffled voice in the background interrupted her.

“Baby, who is that? Come back to bed.” It was definitely a man’s voice. And it sounded familiar

“Shhh! Sush!” Arya tried to be quiet, Sansa could tell. But it didn’t work.

“Oh gods. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” It clicked. Sansa met him once, at a bar, the same night Arya met him.

“You’re still fucking Gendry?! And you lied to me?!” Sansa sat upright in bed, half laughing and laugh yelling at Arya.

“Sorry, Sans, what was that? I can’t hear you, the phone’s breaking up! I have to go!” The phone clicked and Arya was gone. That sneaky little bitch, Sansa thought to herself between laughing. Of course she acts like a hardass, kicking him to the curb, but is secretly still fucking him.

She fell back into bed with a groan. Now she really had no one to talk to.

When she thought about it, Arya had become much less brooding since she met Gendry (and had been sleeping with him secretly). Having someone had made her so much more tolerable. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

Sansa had no idea how all this was supposed to work. Can you keep an escort on retainer? Did you have to set up recurring appointments, like she had with a therapist after her dad died? Or did she just call when she felt like it and hope Margaery was free? Would seeing Margaery regularly really help her be less of a bitch? (She could admit it, she was a bitch at work sometimes.)

She looked down at her phone. Should she just call her and ask her about it? Maybe? Sansa dialed Margaery’s number, which she had memorized on accident. It was just a coincidence that it was so easy to remember. Quickly, she pushed the call button before she changed her mind.

It rang. And rang. And rang. Six times, and then it went to voicemail. Sansa didn’t leave a message.

She tossed her phone down next to her, but before she could start grumbling to herself, it was ringing. Sansa jumped. Margaery was calling her back. She picked up after the first ring.

“Hello?” Sansa voice was shaky, despite her surge of confidence only moments ago.

“Well, well, well. I thought you didn’t want to see me again, little bird?” Margaery’s voice was smooth and soft. Enough to remind Sansa how much she wanted the other woman.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Sansa hadn’t had the wherewithal to ask when they had been together, but hearing it again reminded her that she hadn’t the slightest idea where the pet name had come from.

“What? Little bird?” Margaery chuckled. “That first night, when you asked me to stay, you cuddled up behind me, holding me, and whispered in my ear, ‘If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.’ Then you fell right asleep.”

“Oh gods, I didn’t,” Sansa groaned in embarrassment. 

“You most definitely did, little bird,” Margaery laughed, and Sansa couldn’t help but join her.

“I swear I’ve only seen The Notebook one time!” Sansa was shaking with laughter.

“It was sweet,” Margaery mumbled into the phone, when her laughter died down. Sansa wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it.

“Why did you call me, then?” Margaery asked.

“Oh, right.” Sansa forgot for a moment why she had called. “Well, I wanted to find out if you take… regular clients. You know. Visit someone on a regular basis.”

“Oh, I see,” Margaery purred into the phone. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

“Frankly, no.” Sansa decided matter of factness was her best option. Perhaps a little flattery to go along with it. “I’ve spent all weekend thinking about you. And the whole reason I called you was because I was so distracted and irritated at work that I could barely do my job without murdering someone. Which in my line of work wouldn’t go over very well. So I thought, maybe, if you were willing, we could see each other on a regular basis. It doesn’t always have to be sex! I think- well, I think I would enjoy just… getting lunch with you. Or seeing a movie. I would pay you for your time of course! Just… I don’t know. I’d like to see you again.”

“My, my, Sansa, if I weren’t an escort, I’d think maybe you were asking me out on a date.”

“I- well, um-”

Margaery laughed. “It’s okay, little bird. Yes, I do take regular clients. And I would like to see you again, too.”

“Oh!” Sansa hadn’t really been expecting that. “Well, good then. That sounds… good. Okay. So do I need to plan ahead? Can I just call you any time?”

“Why don’t we plan to see each other on Friday? You can take me to dinner and then we’ll talk then. Does that sound okay to you?”

“Yes, of course,” Sansa said quickly. “That sounds lovely.”

“Good. I’ll come by with a car to pick you up at 8. I know a good place, quiet, secluded. Very discreet.”

“Wonderful. I’ll see you Friday, then.”

“I’ll see you Friday. Good night, little bird.”

If Sansa fell asleep with a smile on her face thinking about Friday, no one had to know. And if she had one of the most peaceful nights of sleep she’d had in years, no one had to know that either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy your last one for the week! Have a great weekend!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week is a long time to wait for a date-or, a not-date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO SMUT YET I’M SORRY IT IS COMING NO PUN INTENDED

The week dragged by slowly. Monday morning, a new witness came forward for the prosecution in one of Robb’s client’s cases, and it was all hands on deck the whole week to try to salvage the case. Even Arya pitched in to help. They rarely left the office before 10pm, and on Wednesday they were all there until midnight after a long and difficult meeting with their client.

When Sansa was able to sleep, usually after at least two glasses of whiskey, it was a fitful sleep. She woke up every morning knowing she’d had a dream, the same dream, but unable to remember what it was.

All the sleeplessness and frustrations at work almost made her forget her plans with Margaery on Friday evening. Almost.

As she lay in bed Thursday night, too tired to even think about easing some of her frustration… physically, she tried to think of excuses to get out of the office early tomorrow. Normally, it would be easy. She’d be home by 5:30 and definitely ready for dinner at 8. But with the case looming over all of their heads, she knew she’d have to give Robb a good excuse if she was going to get out early. And she had to get out early.

She prayed to the gods that Arya wouldn’t be around when she told Robb she needed to leave at a decent time. Arya would throw her under the bus without a second thought. The last thing she needed was her straight-laced, by-the-books brother finding out about her arrangement with an escort.

  


Sansa bolted upright from her sleep, chest heaving and brow sweating. Her fingers were clenched in the sheets and her cunt was throbbing. The alarm clock beside her bed read 4:37am.

Sansa closed her eyes, trying to remember the dream that had woken her up. Every morning so far, she hadn’t been able to. But she concentrated, trying to slip back to where she’d been moments ago.

Suddenly it came back to her in bits and pieces.

Smooth skin flush against hers. Hands teasing her nipples. A mouth on her neck. Something… different filling her cunt, something she’d not felt before.

Margaery’s face came to her from her subconscious. It was Margaery touching her. Margaery filling her. With… not her fingers. With a strap. She had been dreaming of Margaery thrusting into her with a strap-on.

Sansa eyes squeezed shut as she tried to remember every detail. Her hands… she hadn’t been able to move her hands. She remembered why. They had been secured above her head, tied to the headboard somehow.

She had been dreaming of Margaery tying her down to her bed and fucking her with a strap-on.

Part of her tried to play it off as just a dream. Something from her subconscious with no explanation, no deeper meaning. No correlation to her actual desires. But she couldn’t hide it.

The more she replayed the dream in her mind, the more she imagined Margaery filling her, tying her down, holding her still while she filled her… the harder it became for Sansa to ignore the throbbing between her legs.

She didn’t realize it until she gasped, that her hand had drifted to her clit, drawing tight circles around the hardened bud. It wouldn’t take long. Sansa was already painfully turned on.

The image of Margaery above her, thrusting into her wet cunt, smoothing one hand over Sansa’s arm, across her chest, to her neck, fingers wrapping firmly around her throat, was all Sansa need to come hard on her own hand. As she came down, she realized her own hand was flexing around her neck.

Suddenly blushing alone in the dark, Sansa pulled both hands away from where they were, rolling onto her belly and holding them firm beneath herself. She heaved a deep breath, trying to gather herself, still recovering from her orgasm.

Sansa refused to think about what it meant. If she wanted Margaery to have her like that. She needed to fall back asleep, for a little while longer at least. 

She’d think about what it all meant in the morning. Well, later in the morning. 

  


Sansa didn’t think about what it meant in the morning. She pushed it far into the back of her mind. She didn’t want to think about the way she woke up craving Margaery’s touch in a… less than gentle way. She didn’t want to think about what it meant about her. To want to be restrained, held down, taken.

She made her morning coffee extra strong, took a colder shower than usual, and dressed to the nines. Dressing up more than usually always made Sansa feel on top of her game, ready to take on whatever was ahead of her. She was going to need to be clear-headed and careful if she was going to get through the day without anything embarrassing happening.

When she passed the full length by her door on her way out, she stopped to admire herself. She was a little vain, she could admit. She sight of herself in a tailored Thom Browne suit and the men’s Louboutin dress shoes she’d had customized for herself… it took her own breath away. Usually Sansa was more femme, preferring skirts and heels. But when she was in just the right mood, she let her masculine side come out. The side of her that enjoyed crushing the opposition in the courtroom, or the way everyone in the office stared when she left a meeting after putting her foot down with a client. The side of her that dominated everyone around her, even her stoic brother, Robb. The side of her that could hide that small part of her that wanted someone else to dominate her in… other ways.

Letting a sly grin form on her lips, Sansa headed to work feeling prepared to take on the day.

She was only in the office for 20 minutes when the first problem reared its head. Robb was pacing on the other side of her desk, face red with an ager her rarely allowed to surface. Robb’s client wasn’t willing to take the plea deal that they’d spent a whole week hammering out and bartering for.

“Damn bastard is going to end up going to trial, and he’s going to bloody lose,” Robb hissed. He ran his fingers through his hair. “What am I going to do, Sansa? He won’t listen to reason.”

“Have you tried sending Arya in to talk with him? She’s intimidating as hell. Gods know she might be able to talk some sense into him.”

“Yes, I’ve tried that. He doesn’t give a shit.” Robb plopped down in one of Sansa’s chairs, and dropped his head into his hands. “We’re going to lose this trial. I haven’t taken a case to trial and lost in… since Dad died.”

Sansa crossed the desk, sitting on the edge of it, putting a hand on Robb’s shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay. Losing one case wouldn’t be so bad. It happens to everyone now and then.” She tried to be comforting, but knowing Robb’s perfectionist streak, she doubted it would be much comfort. “Why don’t you tell him to take the weekend to think about it? No answers yet, but make him weigh the options. And then that gives you a little more time to think.”

“Give me more time?” Robb asked, looking up at her. “What about you? I need your help on this.”

Sansa blinked, clenched her jaw. _ Now or never, I guess. _ She needed to tell him she wouldn’t be in the office late. Or Saturday. She didn’t want to make any promises she couldn’t keep, just in case her evening went the way she was hoping.

“Actually, I’m not going to be able to stay late tonight. Or come in tomorrow.” Sansa stood up and went back to her chair as she spoke, trying to avoid eye contact with Robb.

“Are you bloody kidding me?!” Robb shouted. Sansa jumped a little. Robb never shouted. “This has got to be a joke, Sansa. Tell me you’re joking!”

The door flew open, and they both turned. Arya was standing in the doorway, concern on her face.

“What’s going on in here??” She shouted. “Is everyone alright?”

Sansa slumped into her chair and dropped her forehead on her desk.

“No, everything’s not alright!” Robb shouted.

“Everything is FINE, Arya, just leave!” Sansa shouted over him.

“Sansa, you’re bloody leaving the office when I need your help-”

“Robb, please, let’s calm down. Arya-”

“Where are you going to be, Sansa?” Arya asked. “This is a big case. You can’t just-”

Sansa groaned, recognizing the exact moment Arya understood what was happening. Her eyes twinkled.

“Oh. my. gods.” Arya couldn’t stop her grin. “You’re seeing her again.”

“Arya, shut up-”

“Seeing who??” Robb interrupted. “Surely a friend can wait.”

“Yeah, Sansa,” Arya said smugly. “Surely a friend can wait.”

Robb finally picked up that something else was going on when Sansa refused to speak, staring daggers into Arya.

“Arya,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I dare what? Tell Robb about your-”

“Arya!” Sansa shouted, but there was desperation in her voice. “Not now, please!”

“Tell me about your what, Sansa?” Robb was on his feet now. “What’s going on here?”

Sansa crossed the room and shut her office door. She had known this was going to happen. She didn’t know why she ever expected Arya to keep a secret.

“I have a… date tonight.” Sansa exhaled heavily, hoping that would be good enough for Robb to leave it alone.

“Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days,” Aray muttered under her breath.

“A date? Then why say you’re ‘seeing her’ again? Who’s her?” Robb was still confused. Arya cocked her head to the side, both hands on her hips. Sansa stared at Robb with a blank face.

“Why are you both staring at me? Why mention a her if Sansa’s actually going on a-” Robb froze, understanding on his face. “Oh.” He blushed. “Oh, I see. Well, that makes… sense. I suppose.”

Sansa knew Robb didn’t care if she dated women. He had taken it very well when Arya came out as bisexual. Robb just hated talking about sex or relationships in any way. It made him all stuttery and blushing.

“Well, alright then, that’s good for you Sansa. I guess I’ll just give my client the weekend and maybe we can touch base on Sunday. Or just wait until Monday. You know what, let’s just talk on Monday. Enjoy your weekend.” And with that he turned on his heel and was out the door without so much as a second glance.

Sansa let out a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. She looked at Arya, and Arya burst into laughter.

“Oh, Sansa,” she managed between giggles. “You’re so lucky he’s so easily embarrassed! I was going to tell him the whole thing!”

Sansa was on her in a second, tickling her sides, like she used to when they were children and Arya wouldn’t stop bothering her.

“Arya, you keep your mouth shut! Or I swear to the gods I’ll make sure you never win a case here again!” Arya fell onto the floor laughing, trying to crawl away. Sansa let her. It wasn’t worth dirtying her suit.

“Okay, fine! I won’t say anything!” Arya gasped for breath, holding her sides with a half grimace-half smile on her face. “But it’s going to come out eventually. Things always do.”

“If you say a word to him, I’ll tell the whole family you’re still fucking Gendry.”

“Fine! Okay, fine! I really won’t! I promise!” Arya laughed as she headed for the door. “Enjoy your weekend, Sansa.” She winked and wiggled her eyebrows before closing the door behind herself.

  


Sansa refused to leave her office for the rest of the day. She didn’t want to risk seeing Robb and either embarrassing the both of them further, or worse, face any questions he might have come up with.

She decided to tackle the monumental stack of paperwork that she had been avoiding to try to distract herself from the anxiety making its home in her stomach whenever she thought too much about seeing Margaery again. She forced herself not to look at the clock every five minutes. It would only make the day drag by slower.

She buried herself under paperwork, took every call that came through for her, wasted time with the emails she had been putting office. Sansa was able to keep herself preoccupied, only slipping into thoughts of the night ahead of her once or twice. Well, maybe three times.

Despite her intention to leave early, somehow, the next time she looked up at the clock it was 7:06.

“Shit!” Sansa growled to herself. She scrambled as quickly as she could to gather her briefcase, tossing the few things she might need over the weekend inside. She rushed out of her office, avoiding the few stragglers still in the office. She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for the elevator to take her down to the parking garage.

Her watch read 7:12 when she slid into the driver’s seat of her Mercedes. Her hope that traffic would be light was promptly crushed. She was surrounded by everyone else trying to get into the city for a night out. It took all of her self control not to slam on the car horn and speed up the shoulder to get home.

As it was, she pulled into her parking spot at 7:43pm.

“Fucking, dammit!” Sansa hissed as she practically sprinted to her loft. Margaery was set to be there to pick her up in 17 minutes. She had planned to change into something less formal, maybe even take a shower. Of course, the one day she made plans to go home early, cleared her schedule so she could leave, she did this to herself.

Sansa dropped her briefcase at the door and didn’t bother to take off her shoes. She’d have to just freshen up and hope for the best. Straightening her hair and touching up her makeup in the bathroom mirror, Sansa thanked the gods that she’d decided to wear sexy lingerie under her suit. Margaery would be there any minute, so she definitely didn’t have time to change.

At 7:58, there was a soft knock at the door. _ I just need to plan for her to always be early, _ Sansa thought to herself. She did a quick once over of herself in the mirror, and determining that she looked good, if a bit overdressed, she headed to the door.

When she laid eyes on Margaery, the breath left her lungs in a rush. She was stunning. She wore a long blue dress, made of some kind of material that shimmered in the dim light of the hallway and with a slit up the side ending mid thigh. Her long hair was pulled back, flowing long down her back, but leaving her neck bare. A simple pair of diamond earrings adorned her ears. Everything about her was elegant, yet utterly tempting.

Margaery, too, seemed taken aback. Her eyes scorched down Sansa’s body, roaming freely and shamelessly. When their eyes finally met, Sansa couldn’t help but smirk at the breathless look at Margaery’s face. It only took a moment for Margaery to blink out of her stupor, but that moment of Margaery’s surprise and admiration made Sansa very glad she hadn’t had time to change.

“You clean up quite nicely,” Margaery murmured, eyes not leaving Sansa’s.

“Well, you look quite lovely yourself,” Sansa replied, confident under Margaery’s open admiration.

“I would invite myself inside, but I’m afraid we have a reservation to get to.” Margaery stepped aside as Sansa grabbed her keys and pocketbook, locking the door behind her. Sansa offered Margaery her arm, and Margaery slipped her arm through Sansa’s immediately

“Well, that’s probably a good thing,” Sansa said, leaning down to speak close to Margaery’s ear. She felt a boldness growing in her that she didn’t quite recognize. “Because if you had come inside, I don’t think I would have been able to stop myself from ripping this dress from your body. And I do think it is quite lovely.”

Sansa smirked at the way Margaery’s hand gripped tightly at her arm, a blush just barely tingeing her cheeks.

“Now, where are you taking me?” Sansa said through her grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Margaery’s voice came out a little shaky, and Sansa liked the idea that she was affecting Margaery as much as the other woman was affecting her.

Sansa refused to let Margaery drive, so Margaery settled for giving Sansa directions as they drove. Sansa’s right hand flexed against the steering wheel as she drove, itching to reach over and rest on Margaery’s thigh. Sansa didn’t want to cross a line though, so she waited to see how dinner would go.

When Sansa pulled up in front of the restaurant that Margaery had directed her to, she was once again very glad she had decided not to change. It was easily the fanciest restaurant Sansa had ever seen. There was a fountain in the middle of a pond, which fed a stream running along the edge of the path that led to the entrance. There was grass and shrubbery surrounding the pond and the walk. It almost made Sansa feel like she was walking into the woods. The building itself had floor-to-ceiling glass walls on three sides, and Sansa good could see bright wood floors and ambient lighting inside. It was all sleek, dark lines and accents, mixed with light wood, and bright light. Sansa had a hard time believing that a place like this even existed in the city.

Sansa took in her surroundings as Margaery took her arm again, leading her inside. Sansa handed off her keys to a valet without a second thought. Even inside it felt tranquil and calm. How had she never heard of this place?

“Good evening, friends.” The host’s voice pulled Sansa out of her wondering. “Thank you for joining us at The Grove. What name is your reservation under?”

“Tyrell,” Margaery offered quickly.

With a few quick taps on the tablet in his hand, the host was leading them to a table in the far corner, against the wall that was not made of glass. Margaery clung to Sansa arm as they walked, and Sansa wondered, not for the first time, what she was thinking about all this.

Sansa pulled Margaery’s chair away from the table for her, helping her to sit, then taking her own seat. Sansa ordered a bottle of wine for the two of them to share, and they took a moment to look at the menu while they wait for the wine.

“You’ve never been here before, have you?” Margaery asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

“No,” Sansa shook her head. “But I truly can’t believe I’ve never heard of it. It’s truly breathtaking.”

Margaery smiled, one of those soft smiles that Sansa had only seen once before. A genuine smile.

“Well, I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s not the only breathtaking thing here tonight,” Sansa said softly. She reached out to brush her fingers against Margaery’s where they rested on the table.

The soft blush from earlier graced Margaery’s cheeks again, and Sansa couldn’t help but smile. She knew she should not be so brazen. She wasn’t on a date. This was a talk to set up an arrangement for sex with an escort.

But no matter how many times Sansa told herself that, she couldn’t stop the way her heart sped up just a little whenever Margaery looked at her.

The waiter came back with their wine, interrupting the moment. Margaery cleared her throat and pulled her hand back into her lap. The waiter missed it all, uncorking the bottle and offering a taste to Sansa for her approval. The wine was so good Sansa knew it was going to cost her a small fortune. When she nodded her approval, he poured a glass for both of them. He quickly took their order, and left them with the bottle of wine.

“Well, I think we’re here to have a little talk, aren’t we?” Margaery smiled across the table at Sansa, back to her characteristic smirk.

Sansa straightened a little in her seat. She knew this was coming, it was the whole reason she was there. But that didn’t settle the butterflies in her stomach. Especially after the dream she managed to remember that morning.

Margaery must have sensed her bit of apprehension, but she smirked wider and leaned in closer.

“What is it, little bird? Not so confident now that you actually have to talk about it?”

“No, not at all. I- I’m perfectly comfortable with… this,” Sansa stammered. “I just- I’m not really sure where to start. What- I mean, how do we… What’s the protocol?”

“Breath, Sansa,” Margaery laughed gently. “It’s alright. I’ll ask the questions, then.”

Sansa sighed in relief.

“How often do you want to see me?” Margaery asked.

“As often as possible,” Sansa blurted without thinking. “I mean. Is once a week too much?”

“Well, well, Ms. Stark, you must have more money than I thought to be able to afford all that.”

“I’m very prudent financially,” Sansa replied. “I am more than capable of making the necessary monetary investment.”

“Well, then, I think that once a week would be alright. Friday evenings?”

“Actually, Saturday evenings would be better for me. It’s easier for me to be sure I’m out of work in time. I have to work late some Fridays and early some Saturdays. If you’re free Saturday evenings, that is. I’m sure that’s, um-” Sansa cleared her throat. “I’m sure your services are in high demand at that time of the week.”

Margaery laughed, almost too loud for Sansa’s comfort. “You just let me handle that. Now, what do you want to happen on Saturday nights? You know it’s more for me to stay the night,” she said, teasingly.

Sansa blushed. “I won’t ask for that again. I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward position that first time.”

“Oh, there was nothing awkward about the positions you had me in,” Maragery purred. She reached her hand for Sansa’s this time, dragging her finger in random patterns over the back of her hand.

Sansa choked on her wine. At that same moment, the waiter came back with their food. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Margaery posed the question again.

“What do you what from this, Sansa?”

Sansa chewed thoughtfully, setting her fork down. She wanted to be honest with Margaery. But she didn’t want to scare her away. She couldn’t just tell her that she was lonely, that she was anxious, that she felt lost. She couldn’t tell her that one night with Margaery had brought her more peace and clarity and rest than she had felt in years. She couldn’t tell her that she needed the touch of another person to stay sane.

“I want you.”

Maybe that was the wrong answer, but Margaery didn’t flinch. She only lowered her eyes for a moment before meeting Sansa’s again quickly.

“I want time with you,” Sansa continued. “I want to talk. I want to touch you. I want to hold you. I want to-” Sansa knew she was going too far. “For too long I’ve been alone. And I just need someone to be there.”

Somehow that was what settled Margaery, made her look less like a deer caught in a blinding light. She nodded her head.

“I can give you that.”

“And I’ll keep giving you orgasms, if you’d like.” Sansa thought maybe that would bring the smirk back to Margaery’s face.

It did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I write, I’m imagining the story as a movie. I try to visualize every scene in my head. Which means I spend a decent chunk of time describing things. Let me know what you think! ado you like the descriptions? Is it too much? I wanna know!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa takes Margaery home.

Sansa and Margaery finished their dinner quietly, with little more than heated glances across the table. Sansa tried hard to keep her hands from sweating as she grasped her fork, but it was impossible. Images from her dream the night before and her imagination conjuring images of the possible future made her feel warm all over. Margaery only smirked at her, letting her eyes drift down her body noticeably. Whether she was simply doing it to arouse Sansa further or because she actually wanted to look at her was unclear.

Before long, Sansa was leading Margaery out of the restaurant, and back to the valet. In the two minutes it took for the valet to pull around Sansa’s car, Sansa had thought of at least five different ways she wanted to have Margaery when they got back to her apartment. A shiver ran down her spine, and is Margaery noticed, she didn’t say anything.

I should probably ask her about what she likes in bed, Sansa thought to herself. Perhaps that would be a good conversation for the ride home.

The valet pulled the car up, and Sansa led Margaery around to the passenger side, opening the door for her and letting her hold onto her arm as she slid inside. Sansa was around to tip the valet and hop into the driver’s seat with a speed that surprised herself. She was being a bit too eager, she told herself. She needed to calm down. 

Shifting into drive and heading down the driveway back towards home, Sansa nearly jumped when she felt Margaery’s hand touch hers where it rested on the gear shift. Margaery took her hand, guiding it to rest on her thigh. Sansa stiffened when Margaery let go, smoothing her hand over the back of Sansa’s. Sansa found herself with her hand gripping Margaery’s thigh, with Margaery’s hand resting atop hers.

Sansa cleared her throat, breaking the silence in the car. She saw Margaery smirking out of the corner of her eye, but with her eyes fixed on the road in front of them. Sansa wished, not for the first time, that she could read the other woman’s mind.

“So,” Sansa finally said. “Since this is going to be an… ongoing arrangement, I thought maybe we should discuss what- well, what you like. In bed, I mean. What you’d want me- are there things you’d like me to do?”

Margaery finally turned to look over at her. “My, Sansa, you are full of surprises. I thought I would have had to bring this up myself.”

“What, you wanted to tell me what you like?” Sansa wasn’t surprised, per se, but it seemed awfully forward, even for Margaery.

“No, little bird,” Margaery laughed. “I wanted to ask you what you like. How you’d like me to take care of you.” She caressed Sansa’s hand on her thigh as she spoke. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”

Sansa turned to glance at Margaery and found Margaery looking at her intently. Her eyes were soft, warm, inviting Sansa to be honest.

“Well, I asked you first,” Sansa said, looking back to the road before she caused an accident with her distractedness. Margaery was very distracting. She flexed the hand resting on Margaery’s thigh impulsively, and she heard Margaery’s sharp intake of breath beside her.

“Alright, then.” Margaery sounded just a little breathless, but Sansa might have been imagining it. “I like penetration. Oral, both giving and receiving. I like being touched with a firm hand. Too much teasing and gentleness makes me feel… unsettled. At least until after I’ve had an orgasm or two. I’m okay with receiving anal, though it’s not my favorite. I am more than happy to give, though.”

Sansa shivered, just barely, and she hoped Margaery missed it again.

“I don’t like being tied up, or tied down. You can hold me down, but if that’s something you want we need a safe word. Receiving, I’m okay with spanking, wax play, blindfolds. Again, no tying me up. If you want to get bossy, I’m okay with that. Giving, I’m experienced with almost everything. Gags, rope, handcuffs, spanking with or without implements. I have a couple of clients who like to be dominated, so I’m capable, if that’s something you’re into. If there’s something you’d like that I’m not familiar with, let me know and I’ll see what I can do for you. Unless it’s about feet. I’m not doing anything weird with feet, no matter how much you pay me.”

Sansa faked a laugh. As Margaery was speaking, a blush worked its way from her cheeks, down her neck, to her chest. Her palms started sweating. She prayed to the gods that Margaery couldn’t tell what she was feeling. Some of those things she hadn’t known were sexual. Wax play? Like with candles? Or your eyebrows? What kind of implements was she talking about?

But there were other things that made Sansa squirm. Ropes. Gags. Blindfolds. Why were they having such an effect on her? Those things sounded like tools for a kidnapping, not a sexual encounter. But Sansa had to swallow hard and blink here eyes a few times to push down the heat rising in her.

“O-okay. Good to know,” she finally managed to stammer. She didn’t dare look over at Margaery, lest she see the way this was affecting her.

“Well, it’s your turn, little bird.” Margaery intertwined her fingers with Sansa’s, letting their hands continue to rest against her thigh. Her thumb stroked the side of Sansa’s hand, almost like she knew that Sansa needed the comfort to keep going.

Sansa cleared her throat. “Right. Well. I, um. Penetration is good. Oral- well, I’ve never- with a girl… not until you. But, um. Yes. Good.”

Sansa could practically feel Margaery smirking at her. She took a deep breath. You’re already had actual, real life sex with this woman, she thought to herself. You need to just be professional. Treat it like a grocery list, so told herself. She cleared her throat again.

“I’ve never tried anal before, but I’m… open to it.” Her voice sounded steadier, even to her own ears. “Actually, I’m very interested.” There it was, she could feel Margaery’s smirk again.

“I’ve also never done… any bondage. But I’d very much like to. I don’t think I’d like being spanked. But- well, it wouldn’t really surprise me if I did,” she muttered more to herself than Margaery.

“All those other… BDSM-type things, I’m assuming- the ones you mentioned… I’d be open to trying them. I’ve never… I’ve never done anything like that before. But I might like to at least try. With you.”

Margaery lifted their entwined fingers, turning them so she could kiss Sansa’s palm. “I’d very much like to try those things with you,” she said, her voice a husky whisper against Sansa’s palm.

“There’s just one other boundary,” Margaery said, letting go of Sansa’s hand as Sansa turned into the parking garage outside her apartment.

Sansa pulled into her parking spot and turned to look at Margaery. “What’s that?”

“No kissing. I can’t-” Margaery hesitated. “It has never gone well with long term arrangements when there’s kissing. It gets messy. So. I avoid it.” Margaery stared at her lap, fingers tangling and untangling under her gaze.

Sansa’s face fell a little, and she was glad Margaery wasn’t looking at her. Of course, she would do whatever Margaery asked, but it made her sad to think she couldn’t kiss Margaery’s lips again. She ignored the slight twinge in her chest when she thought about anyone else kissing her, in the past or future.

“Right, fair enough,” Sansa said, trying to keep her voice chipper. “Makes sense. Anything else I should know?”

Margaery looked up at her and smiled. “I think that suit looks really sexy on you.”

Sansa grinned so hard her cheeks hurt a little. “Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I was hoping to get out of it soon.”

Sansa couldn’t remember how she had made her way to her apartment, when she managed to unlock to door and kick off her shoes, or how she made it onto her knees, one of Margaery’s legs over her shoulder, and her face buried in Margaery’s cunt. But there she was, tongue buried deep inside Margaery and Margaery’s fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck.

Sansa’s hands here on Margaery’s hips, fingers gripping tightly, thumb caressing her hip bone. Margaery’s cunt was hot against her tongue, the sharp and sweet taste of her wetness making Sansa’s own cunt clench in lust.

Above her, Margaery squirmed and moanex, hips trying to grind into her mouth, regardless of the hands pressed to them. Her fingers were curling and uncurling over and over in Sansa’s hair. Her mouth hung open, murmurs of “fuck” and “gods” and “Sansa don’t stop” slipping from her lips whenever Sansa tongue filled her, or when she took Margaery’s clit between her lips and sucked.

Sansa was ravenous. She couldn’t stop herself from licking and sucking Margaery’s cunt. She was beyond wet from it, but couldn’t do a thing for relief. Her knees were spread too far, bringing her to eye level with Margaery’s pussy, and she couldn’t get any friction between her own legs. 

“Oh, gods, fucking fuck,” Margaery groaned when Sansa pulled her clit between her lips and sucked hard. “Oh, I’m going to come,” she whispered. “Please don’t stop, please, please.”

She didn’t need to beg. Sansa had no intention of stopping.

With one more hard suck of her clit, Margaery threw her head back with a loud thud, but Sansa was sure the loud moan falling from her lips was because of her orgasm, not the wall. Margaery’s clit pulsed between her lips, and her wetness coated Sansa’s chin. Margaery pressed her hips to Sansa’s mouth in weak thrusts as she rode her orgasm out on Sansa’s tongue. Sansa groaned against her, trying to lap up as much of her taste as she could.

Sansa never wanted to stop. She didn’t know what had happened to her, but she never wanted to get up off her knees, never wanted to stop eating Margaery out, never wanted to lose the taste of her on her lips.

But it was only a few moments more before Margaery was pulling Sansa away from her pussy by hair, oversensitive as she was. Instead of pulling Sansa up to meet her, though, she slipped her leg from over Sansa’s shoulder and slid down on the floor with her. She pushed Sansa onto her back and climbed on top of her. She seemed to have zero qualms about smearing her wetness on Sansa’s designer trousers and shirt.

Straddling Sansa’s hips, Margaery pressed her lips to Sansa’s neck, licking and suckling at the skin below her ear, at her jaw, at her throat. Sansa wondered at the way she came so close to kissing her lips. Perhaps she regretted making her no-kissing rule.

Distracted as she was, Sansa hadn’t noticed Margaery unbuttoning her shirt until Margaery was sliding a hand under her simple black bra to pinch her nipple. A gasp escaped Sansa’s lips, and she felt Margaery’s smirk against her neck.

“Margaery, bed,” Sansa gasped. “Please…”

Margaery slid off her, reaching down for Sansa once she was on her feet. Sansa’s legs were wobbly from all the time she had spent on her knees, and she had to reach for Maragery to keep from staggering a little.

Margaery giggled, and Sansa did, too. With her hands on Margaery’s shoulders, watching her smile, it was incredibly difficult for Sansa not to lean in and kiss her. But she didn’t. Margaery had asked one thing of her, really. She could hold to that.

Margaery’s smile turned sly, and she pulled Sansa by the hand to her room. When they were beside the bed, they both scrambled to remove their clothes. Neither were concerned with the sensual tease of removing each other’s clothes. They were both rushing, moving with desperation to have their naked bodies pressed together.

Margaery was bare first, and she climbed onto the bed, lying in the middle, staring at Sansa hungrily. When she finally stumbled out of her trousers, Sansa scrambled to be on top of her. She slid her one hand up Margaery’s side to her breast, sliding a thumb over her nipple. Sansa leaned in to Margaery’s neck, licking at her pulse, feeling it jump under her tongue. Margaery sighed, and Sansa pressed her thigh between Margaery’s legs, feeling the hot wetness she had left only minutes ago.

Suddenly, Margaery closed her legs tight, trapping Sansa’s between them. With a twist and a grunt, Margaery flipped them. Sansa was too surprised to fight it. Margaery quickly started making her way down her body, hands and mouth roaming across Sansa’s pale skin. She left a trail of faint lipstick marks down her body. 

When she reach Sansa’s breast, Margaery trailed her tongue in circles around her nipple, never quite touching it. Sansa sighed. She could feel her nipple stiffening further under Margaery’s attention. She arched her back, tried to lean into Margaery, to gain more contact, but Margaery wouldn’t let her.

“Please….” Sansa groaned, her hand reaching to tangle in Margaery’s hair.

Finally, finally, Margaery pressed the flat of her tongue to Sansa’s nipple. Sansa gasped, and Margaery pressed into her further, taking as much of her breast into her mouth as she could. She licked and sucked hard. When Sansa felt like she just might come then and there, Maragery released her breast with a wet pop before moving to the other.

There was no teasing now. Margaery licked hard over her nipple, pulling it between her teeth, and lavishing it with her tongue. She sucked her, and before long Sansa was writhing beneath her.

“Please, Margaery, please,” she begged, her voice nearing a sob.

“Please what?” Margaery smirked against her breast.

When Sansa only whined and pressed her hips up into Margaery, she slowed her tongue against Sansa’s breast. 

“You have to tell me what you want, little bird,” she said, looking up Sansa’s body to meet her eyes. What she saw there was desperation she had never seen before.

Instead of speaking, Sansa pressed the heel of her hand to the top of Margaery’s head and thrust her hips up. Margaery blushed just a little, but she obliged. She slid down until she was face to face with Sansa’s cunt. Without hesitating, she slipped her tongue out to taste the wetness she found there.

Sansa’s hips jerked up into the touch, and she whined again, all but begging Margaery to take her. Who was Margaery to say no?

She licked deep into Sansa’s folds, around the outside of her labia, over the top of her clit, not touching quite enough for Sansa liking. She gripped tight in Margaery’s hair, pulling just enough to get Margaery’s attention. Margaery smirked against her cunt, and put her mouth to good use.

Sliding her tongue deep inside her, thrust in all at once, Sansa let out a deep moan. Margaery began to tongue fuck her in earnest, letting the slickness fill her mouth, coat her chin and lips, smear onto her cheeks. Sansa was a mess, and Margaery was eating it up.

With a couple of strong thrusts of her tongue into Sansa, she slid her tongue up to her clit, licking in tight circles. Sansa arched her back, and came suddenly and hard. Maragery was surprised, but not the least bit disappointed. She continued to lap gently at Sansa’s wet cunt, waiting for her to come down.

When Sansa settled a little more, Margaery didn’t stop. She slipped her tongue back down to Sansa’s entrance, and Sansa moaned again.

“Margaery, please let me- I want-” She took a deep breath. “I want to taste you, too.”

Margaery looked up at Sansa with a question in her eyes.

“Oh, don’t stop, please!” Sansa nearly shouted. “Just- you too… up here.”

“Ah,” Sansa sighed. “I see.” It took a little work on Margaery’s part, but she scrambled up from her stomach onto her hands and knees and turned, throwing one leg over Sansa’s shoulder. She lined her mouth back up with Sansa’s cunt, and looked beneath her to see that Sansa’s mouth was just inches from her own wet pussy. She lowered herself gently until she felt Sansa’s searching tongue slip through her wetness.

It took a great effort of will for Margaery too stay focused on licking Sansa to a second orgasm while trying not to grind mercilessly onto Sansa’s face. Though Sansa seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it. She reached up to pull at Margaery’s ass, pulling her wetness closer to her mouth. 

When Margaery felt Sansa’s tongue slip just past her cunt to press a tentative lick to her arsehole, Margaery couldn’t stop herself from pulling away to let out a gasp. Sansa could tell Margaery liked it, perhaps more than she let on in their previous conversation. But she could come back to that later. She focused with renewed energy on making Margaery come.

With a hard press of her tongue on Sansa’s clit, Margaery felt Sansa gasp as she came again. As her orgasm ripped through her, Sansa focused just enough to suck Margaery’s clit into her mouth. In the back of her mind, Sansa could hear Margaery’s groan rip through her as she, too, came hard.

Margaery fell gracelessly onto her side next to Sansa, and Sansa managed to turn herself so they were face to face. Margaery wiped some of her wetness from Sansa’s chin, and Sansa couldn’t stop herself. She pressed a gentle kiss to Margaery’s cheek, then pulled back. Sansa swore she saw a blush creep up to Margaery’s cheek.

It was only a few moments before Margaery was slipping from Sansa’s bed and gathering her clothes.

“Thank you for a good night,” she whispered against Sansa’s ear as she pressed a kiss of her own to Sansa’s cheek.

“Thank you, Margaery.” Sansa tried not to let her disappointment at Margaery’s leaving show too much.

“I’ll see you next week.” And with that, Margaery was out the door. Sansa didn’t even make it to laying upright in her bed before she drifted off, falling into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am!
> 
> Let me know what you think of the sex. I’m not used to writing this much of it. Does it feel real? Authentic?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa’s first Saturday with Margaery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made some age adjustments with the Stark kids to fit the storyline. Rickon is 17, Bran is 22, Arya is 25, Sansa is 28, and Robb is 32. If you have a hard time believing that age range, I’m 27 and my youngest sibling (of 7) is 9.
> 
> I had originally tagged this that no one dies, and technically no one will die that is alive in this story, but some characters are dead. Sorry, Ned.

The first thing Sansa noticed when she woke was the throbbing in her neck. She had slept the whole night with her head near the bottom corner of the bed, no pillow to support her and barely covered by the blankets she had managed to pull over herself in her sleep. A smile crept to her lips as she remembered the night before. Tasting Margaery again and again until she nearly passed out. Margaery’s soft skin sliding against hers. The warmth of Margaery’s cheek under her lips as she had kissed her goodnight.

Sansa shook herself from her daydream. A glance up at the clock on her bedside table told her it was 9am, later than Sansa had slept in a long time. She needed to get up and pull herself together. Robb might call later, and she needed to be ready in case he did.

As Sansa showered, she gave herself a pep talk. She needed to keep her feelings under control. She remembered what happened back in high school with Jeyne. They’d messed around a little junior year, and then Sansa had become too attached. Jeyne didn’t want a relationship, and Sansa’s feelings had ruined their friendship.

She remembered Joffrey, too. The way she had fallen for him so fast that she missed all the red flags. How she’d let him treat her terribly because she wanted a fairytale romance. It wasn’t until Arya punched him in the face at family Christmas nearly two years into their relationship that Sansa finally woke up to the manipulation and emotional abuse.

She couldn’t ruin the great sex, and hopefully a little companionship, with Margaery by catching feelings. The no-kissing rule had been hard to follow, but Sansa agreed that it was for the best. She liked Margaery, and she didn’t want to miss out on something that could be really good for her because she was got distracted by feelings. If Margaery could do this for a living, surely Sansa could handle seeing someone once a week without falling for her.

Right?

_______________

Robb didn’t call all weekend. And when Sansa got to work on Monday, it was quieter than she expected. The Stark Firm offices were never crazy, but with a big case like the one Robb had been struggling with, she had expected a little more activity. But the offices were fairly quiet for 8am on a Monday.

It wasn’t until she dropped her briefcase off in her own office and headed over to Robb’s to check in on his client that she finally heard some liveliness. But it wasn’t arguing like she expected. She heard laughter and excited voices. Was that Robb’s laugh? Robb never laughed at work. Well, Robb didn’t laugh much at all, except with….

“Jon!” Sansa squealed, as she stepped into Robb’s office. “Jon, what are you doing here?!” Sansa ran to the only man in the room without a suit on and threw her arms around him, rumpling her blouse. She didn’t care, though. Jon was home!

Jon Snow was the Stark’s half brother. Their father’s son. He hadn’t been home since their father’s funeral three years ago. Jon was in the Army, and somehow he always got the strangest assignments, usually far away from home. As far as Sansa knew he was still supposed to be stationed in Antarctica doing gods know what.

“Jon, what are you doing here?” Sansa asked again, pulling back to arm’s length.

“I got a week of leave, so I thought I’d come home for a bit,” he said, smiling wide.

“So, we’re all going to mom’s on Saturday for dinner!” Arya piped up from behind Jon. She had always been incredibly close to Jon. Of course she wanted everyone home for dinner. And of course they would plan it for Saturday.

“Oh!” Sansa tried to act excited, but she was struggling. How was she going to get out of this one? “Why not Friday night? Could we do Friday instead?”

“Oh, come on, Sansa!” Robb nearly shouted. “Not again! You’re seeing the escort again??”

Sansa blushed red instantly. First, how did Robb always manage to know when she was hiding something? Second, how did he know about Margaery? She spun on Arya.

“Oh you little shit!” She tried to dash past Jon to get at her, but Jon held her back and Arya sprinted for the other side of Robb’s office.

“Robb begged to know who you were seeing! I had to tell him!” Arya was grinning ear to ear, and showed not a single sign of remorse.

“Woah!” Jon pulled Sansa into a hug. “You’re seeing someone again? That’s exciting, Sans!”

“No, Jon, she’s sleeping with an escort, she’s not dating someone!” Robb lifted both hands to massage his temples. “I did not want to think about this so early in the morning,” he muttered to himself.

“Arya, I can’t believe you told!” Sansa really felt like she was going to cry. She struggled a little in Jon’s arms, trying to get at Arya. This was not how she wanted her brothers to find out. She hadn’t wanted them to find out at all, but definitely not like this.

Jon cocked his head to the side, just barely, studying Sansa for a moment. Arya looked ready to bolt at any moment if she sensed danger, and Robb wouldn’t look at anyone. Sansa felt her throat constrict a little and her eyes prickle with tears she desperately tried to hold back. The room was silent, save for the ticking of the wall clock.

Sansa decided that she wasn’t going to let them make her feel bad about this.

“I don’t see why it’s any of your business what I do outside of work. Who I see, or spend my time with... or sleep with.” She took a deep breath and pushed on. “I just wanted someone to be there for me. I don’t ask you all questions about who you spend your time with, and I certainly don’t tell other people if I do know.” She glared pointedly at Arya, who ducked her head.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Jon said matter of factly.

They all turned to look at Jon, surprised.

“Well, I don’t,” he said a little defensively. “Robb, you hire a house cleaner even though your flat is small and you could do it yourself, simply because you hate cleaning. Arya, you don’t buy your own groceries, you have them delivered. And half the time you don’t even cook. I’ve seen all the leftover take-out boxes in your refrigerator. You both pay people to do things for you that you could do on your own. If Sansa wants to pay someone for sex because she doesn’t want to deal with a relationship, I don’t see what the problem is.”

Robb’s blush moved from his cheeks all the way up to his hairline. Arya just shrugged and nodded. “Fair enough,” she said.

“Besides,” Jon said, a sly smile on his lips. “I’m sure whoever Sansa is paying is much better in bed than that Gendry boy you’re still sleeping with, Arya.”

Sansa just barely ducked out of the way in time to avoid Arya tackling Jon.

_____________

Dinner at Catelyn’s couldn’t be moved to Friday because Rickon had his first varsity soccer game of the season. Sansa thanked the gods that she was willing to move it up to lunch, instead. Jon had made the request, saying that something had come up with some of his old friends from high school and he was going out Saturday night. Sansa was sure Catelyn had been skeptical, but she was thankful to Jon for taking the pressure off her.

Walking through the front door of her childhood home was like going back in time. Little had changed. It was decorated the same. There were still the various family pictures adorning the entryway. The same furniture inhabited the living room. It smelled like a mix of fresh flowers and the warm apple scented candles her mother always burned. But there was also a distinct sadness that Sansa could not escape.

Ever since her father Ned had died, the memories of his final years made going home bittersweet. She could see him everywhere. She remembered watching television with him on the couch, his head resting against her shoulder in his weakness. She remembered spending night after night reading to him while he lay in bed, unable to get up anymore. She remembered the whole family gathered around his bedside, sitting with him as he breathed his last.

Sansa had been very close to her father. When he was sick, she and her mother were his primary caretakers. She rarely left his side. It had taken months for her to be able to go back to work after he had passed.

A shriek from the direction of the kitchen broke her reverie. She brushed away the tear that was sliding down her cheek and smiled, heading further into the house.

She was greeted by the sight of Arya being chased by Rickon, undoubtedly for pulling some kind of prank on him. Though Arya was eight years older than Rickon, they were close to the same size, a fact that brought a scowl to Arya’s face whenever someone mentioned it.

Bran, Jon, and Robb sat around the kitchen table, laughing and talking. It wasn’t often that Bran smiled anymore, with Ned’s passing and his accident not quite a year later. But having his brothers home could always do it.

Catelyn was busy making sandwiches at the island, but looked up quickly when she heard Sansa come in.

“Oh, Sans, I’m glad you’re here!” She smiled at her eldest daughter fondly. “Help me with the fruit, would you?”

It felt good to have the whole family to be together. Sansa fell easily into the rhythm of helping her mother in the kitchen. She chimed in on her brothers’ conversation, yelled at Arya to leave Rickon alone, then at Rickon for starting something he couldn’t finish. They took turns sharing childhood memories as they ate, remembering family vacations and sick days, holiday parties and birthdays, graduations and new jobs. It was easier like that, being home. When everyone helped her remember all the good, not just the heartache.

As Sansa helped Catelyn clean up, they chatted idly about Sansa’s work and Catelyn’s new knitting hobby. She was on a mission to finish matching sweaters for all her children by Christmas.

“You look happy,” Catelyn said, pausing her dishwashing to look Sansa in the eyes. She reached out to squeeze Sansa’s hand.

“I am happy, Mother,” Sansa said, smiling. And it was true. She was with her family. She had a new and exhilarating experience with Margaery (not that she told her mother about that). Work was actually going well for her. And for the first time in a long time, Sansa really was happy.

_____________

First Saturday Together

By five o’clock, Sansa was headed home, determined to actually have time to prepare to see Margaery. She tidied up her apartment, made her bed, put away the clean laundry. She took a shower, changing into a pair of jeans that she knew made her ass look great and a soft grey sweater. She fixed her hair and did her makeup, not too much, but enough to make it clear she very much cared how Margaery saw her.

By 6:45, Sansa had eaten dinner and was sipping a glass of wine, waiting for Margaery. She was reading a book, her old favorite, Florian & Jonquil. But no matter how much she tried to distract herself, Sansa couldn’t help the way she squirmed in her seat. She had tried all day not to think too much about what seeing Margaery really meant. Otherwise she’d have been a mess when Margaery walked in the door. She already felt embarrassed by how easy it was for Margaery to get her riled up when she was actually present. She didn’t need to clue Margaery in on how much she affected Sansa, even in her absence.

At 6:52, there was a gentle knock at the door. Sansa smiled and went to meet Margaery at the door.

She utterly failed at hiding her desire from Margaery. No sooner had Margaery stepped inside than Sansa had her in her arms, mouth pressed to Margaery’s neck. 

“Well, hello to you, too, Sansa,” Margaery said, voice breathy.

Sansa hummed against Margaery’s neck and offered no other response. Margaery slipped her fingers into Sansa’s hair. Sansa had left it down for just that reason.

Sansa hadn’t even really taken in what Margaery was wearing, but she smiled against Margaery’s neck when her hands found a hem only a few inches below her ass. Sansa let her hands drift lower, sliding beneath the skirt? dress? that Margaery wore and her mouth moved further south, kissing every bit of skin she found.

Margaery was breathing heavy, and Sansa could feel her heart beating where she pressed a kiss to Margaery’s chest. Something told Sansa Margaery had not been prepared for the greeting she received.

A sigh escaped Margaery’s lips when Sansa’s hands met the bare flesh of her ass. Sansa took it as encouragement, sliding her hands up to take full grasp of Margaery. She kneaded the soft flesh with her fingers, and Margaery pressed back into Sansa grip. Margaery’s head had fallen back a little and her mouth hung open, clearly enjoying where Sansa had placed her attention.

Sansa kissed the top of Margaery’s breast where her cleavage peeked out of the neckline of her dress. The dress was in Sansa’s way. It was time for it to go. 

Sansa took the hem of the dress in her hands and pulled it over Margaery’s head with little resistance. She wanted Margaery naked under her hands as quickly as possible. She started to unhook her bra when Margaery stopped her.

“Sansa, the windows,” she gasped. Sansa looked up. Damn. The curtains were still wide open. And the windows of the apartments across the street looked straight into her living room, where she had Margaery mostly naked in her arms.

Sansa turned them both so her back was to the window, blocking Margaery from anyone who might look over. When her eyes met Margaery’s, there was a smirk on the other woman’s face.

“I don’t mind a little audience,” she whispered in Sansa’s ear, pressing a kiss just behind it. “But we haven't discussed that, and I didn’t want you to get too carried away and do something that would embarrass you later.” She paused to place a kiss to Sansa neck. “Like eating my ass here in the clear view of your neighbors.”

Three undeniable truths hit Sansa at the same time. First, she was so glad Margaery was more observant and thoughtful than she was. If their roles were reversed, Sansa wouldn’t have noticed the windows. Second, the thought of someone seeing her pleasuring Margaery sent a jolt of warmth between her thighs. Third, and perhaps most importantly, Sansa couldn’t deny any longer the thoughts she had been trying to push down about Margaery’s ass ever since those tentative licks last time they were together.

All three of those thoughts hit her consecutively, effectively cutting off Sansa’s higher thinking skills. She could only move.

Margaery gasped as Sansa lifted her off her feet and carried her to the couch. Instead of setting her down on the cushions, Sansa dropped her back to her feet by the arm of the couch. She kissed Margaery’s cheek, then took the shell of her ear between her teeth, a gentle bite that had Margaery’s breath rushing from her lungs.

“May I?” Sansa practically growled. Margaery was so dazed by Sansa’s sudden show of aggression that it took her a moment to understand Sansa’s question. But she grasped it clearly when Sansa squeezed Margaery’s ass, one hand dipping nearly between her ass cheeks. Suddenly, it was all Margaery could do to nod quickly.

With that, Sansa spun her around, and pressed her forward until she was bent over the arm of the couch, plump, round ass in the air and covered only by a red lace thong.

Sansa peeled it slowly away from her, noticing the evidence of Margaery’s arousal on the panties. Sansa kissed Margaery’s thighs as she slid the panties down her legs, only taking the time to untangle them from one foot before kissing back up to Margaery’s ass. She pressed a kiss to each cheek before reaching to spread them fully before her hungry mouth.

If someone had told Sansa two weeks ago that she would find herself in such a position, on her knees, an escort ass-up on her couch, ready to give her a thorough rimming, Sansa would have laughed in their face. But her mouth watered for the taste of Margaery again. She couldn’t wait any longer.

As she pressed her tongue between Margaery’s cheeks, Sansa relished the memory of Margaery’s scent. Earthy, warm, and somehow sweet in a way Sansa could never have predicted. When Sansa pressed a first lick to that pucker between her cheeks, Margaery arched up off the couch, moaning wantonly. Her asshole clenched tight against Sansa’s tongue, cool and wet where Margaery was so warm.

Sansa had never felt so hungry for another person’s body. She pressed in closer, lapping at Margaery’s asshole until it slowly began to relax. The moans coming from Margaery didn’t slow at all, though. When Sansa finally pressed gently with her tongue at the center of her asshole, a deep groan spilled from her lips. For a moment, Sansa worried that she’d hurt Margaery. When she stilled, though, Margaery reached back to tangle her fingers in Sansa’s hair. 

“Ohhhh, don’t stop, baby, please!” Margaery pulled her face deeper into her ass, and Sansa groaned in pleasure, doing her best to ignore the flutter in her chest at the pet name. She stiffened her tongue and pressed a little harder against her hole, slipping just past the tight ring of muscle. She withdrew, the sharp taste of the deepest part of Margaery filling her mouth. But that only spurred her hunger on.

In the back of her mind, Sansa knew someone could see. Her building faced another, and with the windows open, with her apartment on the third floor, it wasn’t totally unlikely that someone could see them. And for some reason, that thought made her pulse race even harder. It made her clench on nothing, wish for something filling her. It turned her on in a way she could not have predicted.

Sansa’s fingers dug into Margaery’s hips, pulling her closer to her mouth. She pressed her tongue against her again, slipping inside her, giving Margaery gentle pressure as Margaery pressed back again and again against her face.

Sansa couldn't tell which groans were coming from her and which were from Margaery. Sansa knew she must be soaking through her jeans. She could feel the hot, wet arousal between her legs whenever she moved. She wanted desperately to slip her hand between her legs and bring herself off as she licked Margaery into oblivion, but she couldn’t bear to take her hands away from their place on Margaery’s hips.

“Oh, Sansa, please,” Margaery gasped, after a particularly deep thrust from Sansa. “Touch my clit, please!”

Sansa obliged. She slipped her right hand between Margaery and the arm of the touch, making quick, tight circles on Margaery’s hard and throbbing clit. Margaery’s knees gave out finally, trapping Sansa’s hand and making her bend further to keep her tongue in place as Margaery collapsed on the arm of the couch.

A few more quick circles and harder and deeper thrusts of her tongue into Margaery’s asshole and Margaery was coming hard. Her back arched, her muscles clenched around Sansa’s tongue, and her clit throbbed against Sansa’s fingers.

Sansa coaxed her down, tongue slipping from her hole, lapping around it gently. She held her fingers firm against Margaery’s sex, let her pulse against her firm touch.

“I can’t believe I’m bloody letting you pay me for this,” Margaery said above her with a laugh. Sansa smiled, pressing a kiss to Margaery’s ass cheek before she stood on wobbly legs. “I never would have guessed it would be so easy to get you on your knees for me.”

Sansa helped Margaery move around the couch so she was lying fully on it and not half over the arm. Sansa straddled Margaery, fully clothed to Margaery’s nakedness. She bent to kiss Margaery’s neck, her shoulder, her collarbones.

“How are you still so clothed, little bird?” Margaery asked, hands reaching under her shirt to skim across her stomach.

“Why don’t you do something about it?” Sansa pressed a kiss to the top of Margaery’s breast. She looked up then, met Margaery’s eyes. The twinkling she found there took her breath away more than anything else that had happened so far.

Margaery pulled Sansa’s arms, forcing her to sit up, and moved for the button of her pants. She pushed at them once they were undone, whining a little. Sansa laughed and stood, removing her jeans and panties in one pull.

“Sweater, too,” Margaery said.

Sansa smirked, pulling her sweater over her head and removing her bra. She slid back onto Margaery’s lap, pressed in close so they were hip to hip.

Without warning, Margaery slipped her hand between Sansa’s legs, finding her hot cunt ready for whatever Margaery would give.

“Oh, gods,” Sansa gasped. Her breath left her suddenly as Margaery reached further between her legs, dipping two fingers into her. She pressed her hips forward, taking Margaery’s fingers further. She couldn’t hold back. Her hips rocked against Margaery’s fingers, back and forth, pressing Margaery deeper inside her with each thrust.

The heel of Margaery’s hand dragged against her clit with each thrust, and it only made Sansa rut harder against her. Sansa fell forward, hands on the arm of the couch behind Margaery’s head. Her tits were right there in front of Margaery’s face, so she leaned up as best she could and took one pink nipple into her mouth. Sansa groaned, and her cunt clenched on Margaery’s fingers. Margaery sucked and licked diligently. Sansa was using Margaery’s body for her own pleasure, grinding her hips against Margaery’s hand and pressing her chest closer to her face.

With just a few more thrusts, and a quick bite against her nipple, Sansa came on Margaery’s fingers. Wetness flowed down Margaery’s wrist as Sansa’s pussy pulsed.

Sansa collapsed onto Margaery, her fingers slipping from inside her. Sansa pressed her face to Margaery’s neck, pressing a kiss to her racing pulse. Margaery’s groaned, and Sansa smiled. She knew Margaery needed more. She slipped her hand between Margaery’s legs to find her wetness, and she was not disappointed.

A few rough circles against Margaery’s clit and she was coming. She wrapped her arms around Sansa, pulling her close, so close Sansa could feel Margaery’s heart beating through her chest. She held Sansa close for a long while. Sansa was soaking in the comfortability she felt, lying in the near darkness, naked, with Margaery. She hadn’t felt so peaceful in another’s arms before.

Around midnight, Sansa woke with a start. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Margaery jumped beneath her.

“Sorry,” Margaery said, voice thick with sleep.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” Sansa whispered, clearing her throat. “I fell asleep on top of you.”

Margaery smiled up at her as Sansa tried to sit up. “I didn’t mind.”

As they pulled their clothes on, they were quiet. This part always made Sansa feel unsure. There was no money to hand over, it was all done electronically. She only had to watch Margaery dress, try not to ask her to stay, and lock the door after her when she left.

“Goodnight, Sansa,” Margaery said when they walked to the door.

“Goodnight. I’ll see you next week,” Sansa said.

“Next week.” Margaery smiled at her. Then she surprised Sansa, leaning in to press a kiss against her cheek. Then she was gone, out the door and down the hall. Sansa shut the door, locked it, leaned against it for strength.

Good gods, she thought to herself. What is this woman doing to me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! We’ve get a lot coming ahead, and there may be some shorter chapters as format changes a bit to be centered around Sansa and Margaery’s Saturdays together. But if the chapters are shorter, just know that means I’ll be updating sooner. 
> 
> Let me know in the comments how you might like to see Margaery and Sansa get it on!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Margaery try leaving the house.

Sixth Saturday Together

“We should really try to get out sometime,” Sansa murmured against Margaery’s shoulder, her head resting there as she tried to steady her breathing. She rolled off Margaery, letting Maragery’s fingers slip from inside her. She let out a soft moan as she settled into Margaery’s side.

For the past six weeks, Margaery and Sansa had spent every Saturday fucking. Sansa told herself she just wanted to get to know Margaery’s body. Sansa didn’t know what Margaery was telling herself. But every week, she had come over a little bit earlier. She would text Sansa, see if she could be fifteen minutes earlier than last time. This Saturday, she’d come over at 5:30 and was on Sansa the moment she was in the door.

Not that Sansa was complaining! Not even a little. But when they had started this, she had said she wanted to get to know Margaery, and that was still true. She wanted to know more than what would make her come the fastest, or the faces she made when Sansa slipped two fingers inside her when she wasn’t expecting it, or the breathy sighs she let slip when Sansa’s face was buried between her legs. She loved touching Margaery. She really loved it.

This was why they never left the apartment. They were too thoroughly distracted by each other. Margaery was breathing gently, arm resting behind Sansa’s head. Sansa’s fingers traced patterns across Margaery’s stomach. Margaery shivered a little and turned to press a kiss to Sansa’s forehead. The no-kissing rule Margaery had set seemed only to apply to lip-kissing.

“Why in the world would I want to miss out on this by going out?” Margaery mumbled against her skin. Her breath was warm and soft and somehow didn’t hold any lingering scent of the places her mouth had been not that long ago.

Sansa hummed, but she leaned back enough to look at Margaery.

“Well, I was serious about wanting to get to know you.” She smiled, but Margaery’s face fell. She shrugged Sansa’s head off her shoulder and started to sit up.

“I don’t really think you want to get to know me, Sansa.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Sansa reach out to take Margaery’s hand, to keep her in bed with her. “Of course I do.”

“No, I really don’t think you do.” Margaery brushed her hand away and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Sansa was confused, and there was a strange feeling rising in her chest. It was the same feeling she got when she was standing before a judge waiting for a verdict, or when Robb looked at her with disappointment because she hadn’t been able to bring in a new client. Fear. It was fear. She was scared.

“Margaery, what are you talking about?” Sansa reached out to take her hand again, catching her before she could stand up and step away from her. “I really do want to get to know you. I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, and I just - I want to know more. About you, your life, where you’re from. I want to know you, for real.”

Margaery stood, slipping her hand from Sansa’s. “Sansa, you don’t want to know me.” Margaery wouldn’t meet Sansa’s gaze. She took a step away from the bed, out of Sansa’s reach. She clasped and unclasped her hands in front of her.

“I’m nothing but a glorified hooker, and I have been for years. I have no life outside of my job. I don’t have hobbies. I fuck and I go home and sleep. There’s nothing about me you could possibly want to know. This… whatever this is would be best kept to the bedroom.”

The tension in Sansa’s chest dropped like a rock to the pit of her stomach and her heart felt as if it would burst. Margaery couldn’t possibly believe those things about herself, could she?

“Oh, Margaery, that’s not true.” Sansa clambered out of bed as quickly as she could, going to stand in front of Margaery.

“How would you know?” Margaery spat, turning away.

“Because I see you. You’re funny, and you’re kind. You’re gentle and and sweet, and you’re always early.” She tried to laugh but there were tears prickling the corners of her eyes. Why did this matter to her so much? Why did she care what Margaery thought of herself when she wasn’t with Sansa? 

A small smile lifted the corner of Margaery’s mouth, but she still wouldn’t turn to face Sansa. Sansa took a step closer to her, then another. She put her hand on Margaery’s shoulder. Margaery flinched, but she didn’t shrug it off. Sansa stepped even closer, slipped her hands around Margaery’s waist, pulled her flush against her own body.

“Please,” Sansa whispered, lips pressed to the soft hair just behind her temple. “Let me show you. If you don’t believe me, let me show you. Let me take you out. There’s so much more to you than your job. Let me prove it.”

Margaery didn’t say anything for a long while, but she let herself be held. And if she pressed herself just a little closer to Sansa as she spoke, Sansa pretended not to notice.

“Fine.” Margaery’s voice was barely audible. “Fine, but on one condition.” Margaery turned in her arms and looked up at Sansa, eyes red and watery like she was holding back tears.

“Anything.” Sansa pressed a comforting kiss to Margaery’s forehead.

“You have to promise not to fall in love with me.”

Sansa couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from her chest. When Margaery scowled at her, she stopped and tried to suppress the smile on her face.

“Only if you promise not to fall in love with me,” she said with a wink.

Margaery smiled a little at that.

“How hard can it be?” Sansa said. “It’s just friendship and fucking.”

“Alright, then, little bird,” Margaery said. “I’ll let you try.”

“You know,” Sansa said as she pulled Margaery into a tight hug. “It doesn’t really make sense for you to call me little bird when I’m so much taller than you.”

When the hug devolved quickly into tickling, Margaery’s only real way to get back at Sansa for her joke, Sansa thought that it would be good. To have a friend. A real friend. She just had to convince Margaery.

___________

Seventh Saturday Together

Sansa decided to take the stairs down to the lobby. It was only three floors, and she needed an outlet for all of the energy buzzing under her skin. She had been so full of energy all day that she woke up at 6am, went for a long run, did yoga, cooked a full breakfast for herself, cleaned her house from top to bottom, called her mother just to chat, and still had time to get herself ready to see Margaery at 5:30.

Since their talk the week before, Sansa had been filled with questions. She had to truly restrain herself from bringing her pocket notebook with her, and rattling off all the questions she had jotted down over the week.

Sansa knew it was foolish. She knew she was paying Margaery for her time. She didn’t know why she was so interested in her. She could probably chalk it up to being touch-starved and lonely if she wanted. She hadn’t slept with anyone since Joffrey, and even that hardly counted. But it was more than a hunger for intimacy causing her to latch on to the first person to show her affection.

There was something in her eyes, the way they could be so soft and open and wanting one moment, and then hard and piercing and hungry for her the next. Something in the way Margaery had pressed her lips to her back when she took Sansa from behind, gentle and soothing, almost like she could tell there was something in Sansa keening for that soft touch. Something about the way Margaery always stared at her lips every time they met, as if she couldn’t stop herself, just before pressing Sansa against the first solid surface she found, a look that said perhaps there was nothing she wanted more than to kiss her.

That was a dangerous path to go down, though. It was a slippery slope of feelings and desire for more and impossibilities. Sansa knew what she was getting into when she started this. Sure, maybe it had been hasty, and perhaps a little ill-thought-out. But Sansa knew what she wanted. Who she wanted. Even if she wasn’t exactly sure why.

She stepped into the lobby of her apartment building from the stairwell and tried to school her face into something less nervous. When she came around the corner to the lobby where Margaery was supposed to meet her, she froze.

Margaery was standing near the door, looking at one of the kitschy paintings that adorned the wall, hands clasped behind her back, gaze intent, like she was studying the Mona Lisa. She was wearing a simple pair of high waisted blue jeans that hugged her ass and her thighs. A loose-fitting white t-shirt, which honestly looked like maybe it was one from one of those multi-packs of men’s t-shirts, was tucked into her jeans, and her hair hung down her back in loose curls.

Sansa replayed in her mind every time she had seen Sasnsa in the last two months. In the ten or so times they had seen each other, Sansa had never seen Margaery wearing pants. She’d never worn slacks or jeans or any kind of pants to see Sansa. And she had definitely never worn a t-shirt.

But it wasn’t her surprise that kept her rooted in place even as others passed her by. It was the thrumming of her pulse and the heat creeping up her cheeks and the throbbing between her legs at how downright gorgeous Margaery looked.

Now, Sansa had a deep and abiding appreciation for Margaery in a tight skirt, or a dress with a plunging neckline. Gods help her, nothing could make her instantly wet like sight of Margaery’s legs when she was wearing a pair of stilettos. Put together, done up, business-like Margaery really did it for Sansa. That Margaery could almost make her come in her pants with just a look.

But this Margaery, this soft, comfortable Margaery…. This warmed entirely different parts of Sansa. Her heart twinged with something akin to fondness.

It wasn’t until someone bumped into Sansa that she was pushed into motion. She shook her head and headed toward Margaery. Margaery was so intent on the painting she didn’t even notice Sansa come up behind her until Sansa placed a hand on her arm.

“Oh!” Margaery squeaked.

“Hello,” Sansa said, smiling. Her cheeks hurt, and she realized she must have been smiling the entire time she was watching Margaery. She blushed a little and was very glad that Margaery hadn’t turned around and caught her staring and smiling like a creep.

“Hello to you.” Margaery was smiling, too, but it was a small, almost timid smile. Sansa remembered how reluctant Margaery had been to meet her like this, and her resolved to show Margaery she was worth getting to know doubled.

“You look… incredible,” Sansa mumbled, daring to glance over Margaery one more time.

“Oh shut up,” Margaery laughed. She swatted Sansa’s arm playfully, and Sansa thought maybe it would all be okay.

“You ready to go?” Sansa held out her arm for Margaery to take.

“I don’t even know where we’re going.” Margaery slipped her arm through Sansa’s, wrapping her fingers around Sansa’s arm. Sansa wondered if the way Margaery squeezed her bicep a little was supposed to be subtle.

“We’re going to have the best gyros in the city!” Sansa declared. “I hope you like gyros. Or hummus. They have hummus, too. And baklava. Their baklava is great, too.”

“Actually, I’ve never had it,” Margary said.

“Wonderful! I love showing people new things.” Sansa wondered if maybe she was overdoing it with the enthusiasm. “It’s just a few blocks away. We can walk if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Margaery said. She didn’t let go of Sansa’s arm for the entire walk.

When they got to the restaurant, a little little family-owned affair on a busy corner with just a few booths inside, Margaery insisted that Sansa order for her. Which resulted in Sansa ordering one of almost everything on the menu, two heaping trays full of food that she knew they would never finish. She knew nothing about Margaery, though, what she liked and disliked, so she didn’t want to mess it up.

After a few bites of hummus, and the lamb gyro, and some fries, Sansa started to settle a little.

“So, tell me-” she started, but Margaery cut her off with a raised hand.

She finished chewing an olive, then spoke. “We’re making a safeword for this.” When Sansa quirked an eyebrow at her, she continued.

“You just seem like the kind of person who would jump right into the deep end with ‘Tell me about your childhood trauma or whether or not your abandonment issues are because of your father,’ and I just can’t come right out with all that stuff. So. If you push too far too soon, I’ll use the safeword.”

“Okay, you’re not wrong.” Sansa smiled. “So what’s your safeword, then?”

“Rose.”

“Well, what if I want to ask you what your favorite flowers are?” Sansa smirked.

“Lucky you, it’s not roses.” Margaery returned Sansa’s smirk with one of her own.

“Well, what are you favorite flowers, then?” Sansa wasn’t planning to ask, but now that she thought of it, that little fact might come in handy.

“Hydrangeas.”

“Good to know.”

They spent the next two hours finishing off most of the food they’d ordered and talking. Sansa kept her questions surface level, taking Margaery’s warning seriously. She didn’t want to mess things up the first time she got Margaery to go out with her. Sansa asked whether or not she had been to the city zoo and which animal was her favorite. Margaery loved the penguins best, but she recounted the time one of her previous clients had flown her to Africa with him so he could take her on a safari. They talked about Margaery’s favorite food (Thai), the best coffee shop in town (“This little place on the corner of 16th and Chestnut, tucked back where most people would never know about it,” Sansa said), the best clubs for dancing (and how often Margaery had to pretend she liked dancing for clients). They didn’t stop talking even as they started the walk back to Sansa’s apartment as it got dark.

The longer they talked, the more it started to feel like a date to Sansa. She tried to push the thought from her mind. She couldn’t allow herself to think that way. But when she heard Margaery’s laugh, and found herself trying to pull more of that laughter from her, or when Margaery talked through a mouthful of food, which Sansa found endearing and only a little gross, Sansa couldn’t stop herself from thinking that it felt just a little bit like a date.

It had been a long time since she’d been on a date. She only went out with a couple of guys after Joffrey, and they had all been so awkward and uncomfortable. She spent the whole date scrutinizing everything they said, flinching if they moved too quickly, refusing to be alone with them. It had taken a break from dating and a few years of therapy to work through what Joffrey had done to her psychologically. Even after therapy, she just didn’t find any interest in going on dates. She didn’t want a relationship. She didn’t really have time for one.

But with Margaery…. With Margaery it was so hard not to feel the first-date butterflies. She couldn’t stop smiling, and she wanted to badly to reach out and take Margaery’s hand. Margaery made her forget everything else, work, her family, the loneliness. All of it faded away when she was with Margaery. Even the little tiny glimpses she was getting into Margaery’s life, her likes and dislikes, her funny stories, the kind of jokes she laughed at… they seemed so small but they made Sansa hungry for more of Margaery.

They were back in the lobby before Sansa knew it, headed back to her place. The doors had barely even shut and Margaery had her hands fisted in Sansa’s shirt, pulling her close, pressing her body fully against Sansa’s. Her mouth met Sansa’s neck, and she her knees almost buckled at the sudden pleasure lighting through her veins.

“You got to have me how you wanted,” Margaery breathed into her ear, breath hot and heavy on her skin. “Now I’m going to have you.”

The doors dinged, and Margaery pulled Sansa by the hand to her apartment door. With shaking hands, Sansa fishes her keys from her purse and unlocks the door. Before they’re even fully inside, Margaery is peeling her out of her clothes, hands and mouth everywhere.

Sansa had never gone from a barely-there thrum of arousal to being wet through her panties in such a short time. Margaery was playing her body like a fiddle, mouth on her neck, her collarbone, nails raking down her back and up her thighs, fingers twisting and pulling at her nipples mercilessly.

When Sansa was naked, Margaery slowed her touch, brought her lips to Sansa’s ear.

“I would like to have you, Sansa,” she whispered. Sansa nodded feebly.

“Don’t agree until you know what that means.” Margaery’s fingers brushed gently against Sansa’s thigh as she spoke, her body pressing Sansa’s against the front door.

“I want to tie you down to the bed and take what I want from you. I want to touch all of you. Those pretty pink nipples of yours. The pert little ass. Your tight little cunt. I’m sure you’re already so wet for me. I want to fuck you, hard and fast and deep with my cock. I want you to scream for me, beg me to give you what you want. And then I want to ride you face until I come in your mouth.”

Sansa was sure she wasn’t breathing anymore. Her heart had beat right out of her chest, she knew it. Margaery’s words made her weak in ways she had never felt before. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she nodded her head vigorously. It was all she thought she could manage to give Margaery her approval.

Margaery grabbed her chin tight in her hand, pulling Sansa down to look at her. The shock of Margaery’s fingertips pressed hard to her face made Sansa open her eyes wide and stare down at Margaery, mouth agape.

“I need to hear you say it,” Margaery whispered, her mouth so close to Sansa’s that Sansa thought she could taste the words.

“Yes,” Sansa breathed, an exhale more than a word. “Yes, oh please, I want that, I want all of it, Margaery, please.” Sansa could not have cared less that she was already begging.

“What’s your safeword?” Margaery asked, her voice suddenly soft.

“Wolfsbane.” Sansa definitely hadn’t thought about it before. Definitely hadn’t already picked out a safeword just in case she were ever this type of situation.

“Go lie on the bed and wait for me,” Margaery murmured against her neck, nipping lightly before she stepped away from Sansa.

Later, when she was alone, Sansa would replay what happened next over and over again. She would remember and touch herself, moan Margaery’s name into her pillows, fill herself as best she could with her own fingers. But nothing she did alone would be able to make her feel the way Margaery could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone my hand slipped top!Margaery came out to play. A sexy cliffhanger, which I promise will be worth it! I’m going to try to have the next chapter up before the weekend. 
> 
> I looooove your comments and kudos and all the love. Please keep it coming! (Like Margaery keeps Sansa coming.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wondered if she should feel ashamed, or embarrassed, or squeamish. But she only felt incredibly turned on. Margaery wasn’t being facetious. She was actually going to tie her down and fuck her with her cock.
> 
> “Like what you see, little bird?” Margaery purred, her smirk even more intimidating when Sansa knew what was coming. Or who would be coming. And how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2600 words of pure smut you’re welcome

Sansa stared up at the ceiling, tried to steady her breath, clenched and unclenched her fingers in the quilt, pressed her thighs together to try ease the pulsing of her clit. It seemed like she had been lying there for hours, but it had only been a few minutes. She had no idea what Margaery was doing, where she was. All she knew was that she was ready, open, willing for whatever was about to happen.

She heard Margaery first. She turned to look towards the door, and what she saw made her breath come just a little harder. Margaery stood in the doorway, watching Sansa. She was wearing only a white lace bra that barely hid her nipples from Sansa’s eyes, a pair of white lace panties, and red stilettos. Where the stilettos materialized from, Sansa had no idea. But she quickly realized Margaery had been planning this, probably all day.

The thought of Margaery, out to dinner with her, wearing that lingerie under her simple clothes, thinking about what she would do to Sansa later… it made her cunt flutter.

Sansa couldn’t quite tell what was in Margaery’s left hand. It seemed to be a jumble of silk and leather, indiscernible to Sansa’s inexperienced eyes. In her right, though…. Sansa knew what that was. In Margaery’s right had was a cock. A fairly large cock, realistic with veins and a head and a slit at the tip. It was flesh-colored, pale like Margaery.

Sansa gulped. She wondered if she should feel ashamed, or embarrassed, or squeamish. But she only felt incredibly turned on. She knew then what the handful of leather and silk must be. Margaery wasn’t being facetious. She was actually going to tie her down and fuck her with her cock.

“Like what you see, little bird?” Margaery purred, her smirk even more intimidating when Sansa knew what was coming. Or who would be coming. And how.

Sansa could only nod mutely as Margaery stalked towards her and set everything down on the end of the bed. Margaery leaned down to place a kiss against Sansa’s neck, and Sansa gasped. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending on high alert, waiting for Margaery’s touch.

“I want you to know if anything becomes too much, you just say the word and it’s over,” Margaery whispered against her ear. Her voice was soft and gentle, comforting. “If I say or do anything that makes you uncomfortable and you want to stop, you just say it. I won’t be angry or upset or disappointed. You hold the reins. Okay?”

Sansa nodded again.

“I need you to say it, Sans.”

Sansa gulped. “Okay.”

“Good girl,” Margaery mouthed against the shell of her ear.

A shudder ran through Sansa’s whole body, and she closed her eyes tight against the arousal pulsing through her. She felt the blush rushing to her face and chest, heat blooming low in her stomach.

Margaery hummed in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.”

What is she doing to me, Sansa thought. 

Whatever it was, however Margaery was affecting her so much, Sansa didn’t ever want it to stop. She watched with rapt attention as Margaery presented two black scarves, wrapping them around her wrist, tying knots she couldn’t keep track of, fastening her hands above her head, one tied to each bedpost.

She expected her legs to be tied down as well, but Margaery didn’t move to her ankles.  
“I want you to feel your thighs around my face while I eat you out, so I’m going to leave your legs loose, okay?” Margaery spoke matter-of-factly, as if she was telling Sansa what the weather would be like tomorrow. “Don’t get used to it, though.”

Sansa didn’t know if she was supposed to respond, but she wasn’t sure she could make her voice work anymore. The silk was soft on her wrists, but the knots held her tight, though not tight enough to cut off her circulation. She flexed against them, pulled, but there was little give.

A hot wetness against her thigh pulled her attention downward. Margaery was lying between her legs, mouthing her way up her thigh. Her tongue traced patterns on the inside of her thigh, her teeth nipping and biting. Sansa hissed against the flashes of pain, each soothed by Margaery’s mouth pressing wet, hot kisses that cooled in the air when she left them behind.

The pulsing heat of her cunt was nearly unbearable, and she whined as she pulled against her bonds. She wanted nothing more than to thread her fingers into Margaery’s hair and pull her mouth to where she wanted it most. The fact that she couldn’t, that Margaery was in complete control, only made a fresh wave of wetness pulse from her pussy. She was sure she must be dripping on the bed.

When Sansa finally felt the hot stripe of Margaery’s tongue lick through the center of her wetness, she almost screamed. Her back arched off the bed, and the groan that emanated from her made Margaery press her own hips into the mattress. Sansa tried to look down at Margaery, to watch her lick her cunt, but she couldn’t open her eyes. The pleasure burned through her like lava.

Margaery’s tongue circled her clit lightly, not quite touching. She licked outside her lips, pulled one gently into her mouth, suckling at it. She moved to Sansa’s entrance, lapped up the wetness gathering there. Sansa writhed under her attention. Her arms strained to reach for Margaery, but there was a thrill about being unable to reach her.

“You taste so good,” Margaery breathed against her. “Such a good girl for me.”

A wanton moan escape Sansa’s lips, and she pressed her hips up to Margaery’s absent mouth.

“So eager,” Margaery mouthed against the inside of her thigh. “What do you want, little bird?”

Sansa whined, pressed closer to her mouth, but Margaery gave her no more.

“Use your words.” Margaery pressed a kiss to her other thigh.

“Please, Margaery, please,” Sansa whined.

“Please what?”

Sansa knew she was going to have to say exactly what she wanted.

“Please, Margaery, I need your mouth on me, I need you to suck my clit, please, oh-”

Sansa was cut off by Margaery’s growl from between her legs and the jolt of lightning as she felt lips close around her clit and suck. Hard.

Sansa lost track of everything except the growing pressure on her clit, the way Margaery squirmed between her legs, hands on her hips, pulling her as close as she could. Sansa felt Margaery was trying to eat her alive, and she was succeeding.

Margaery’s mouth devoured her cunt, first sucking hard at her clit, then pressing her tongue hard and fast inside her. She flicked her tongue over Sansa’s clit, pressed her mouth close and lapped up all the wetness that she could.

Sansa slipped over the edge before she knew it was coming. A hard suck on her clit and two of Margaery’s fingers slipping inside her, and she was gone. Back arched. Fingers gripping tight at the silk holding her in place. Thighs holding Margaery in place.

Margaery did not stop lapping at her cunt until Sansa’s legs fell to the bed. Every breath felt like a struggle, like Sansa was still coming back to her body. She opened her eyes just in time to see Margaery wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, lick Sansa’s arousal from her fingers.

Margaery slid from the bed, stood, stepped out of Sansa’s line of sight. Sansa was dazed, delirious, the waves of her orgasm still washing over her gently. Everything felt warm and soft. She wanted Margaery to come back, wanted her body next to her.

“Margaery?” she murmured, looking to her side to try to find her.

She had her back to Sansa, leather straps crossing her ass and lower back. When she turned to Sansa, Sansa gasped at the sight of her. The black leather was holding her cock in place, jutting from her hips almost realistically. Sansa licked her lips. She had felt turned on when she saw it earlier, in Margaery’s hands. Now it felt more real, and so much more arousing.

Margaery stalked to the end of the bed again, climbed between Sansa’s legs.

“Do you want this?” Margaery asked, voice deep and husky with her own arousal. “Do you want to take my cock like a good girl?”

Sansa bit her lip, nodded her head quickly. “Yes, please,” she said before Margaery could ask.

Margaery’s smile soften for just a moment, then turned into a smirk again. She sat back a little, slipped her hand between Sansa’s legs again, gathering some of her wetness on her fingers. She wrapped her hand around her cock, lip between her teeth, and spread Sansa’s wetness down the toy. Sansa’s jaw dropped. She watched Margaery’s hand with rapt attention, noticed the way the cock began to glisten.

Then Margaery was over her, leaning in. Sansa closed her eyes, waiting for a kiss that never came. Margaery pressed her lips to Sansa’s pulse, nipped at the skin there. Sansa felt something cool and firm slipping through the wetness of her cunt. Margaery’s cock. She pressed down a little, as much as she could with her restraints, fought for more friction.

“Are you ready for me?” Margaery mumbled against her skin.

“Yes,” Sasna breathed.

Margaery pressed in, spreading Sansa’s lips, the head of her cock pressing against her entrance. It was smooth and firm, insistent against her. 

“Please,” Sansa begged. “Please, Margaery.”

Then she felt Margaery’s cock split her open, head slipping past her opening, filling her inch by inch. Margaery groaned at the pressure against her own clit from the base of the toy.

Sansa groaned, deep and long, as Margaery filled her with every inch of the cock. When Margaery’s hips finally met Sansa’s, Sansa wished she could wrap her arms around Margaery, hold her close, keep her there, surrounding her and filling her.

Margaery must have felt it, too. That need to stay close. She stayed still, buried deep in Sansa’s cunt, panting hot breath against her neck. Sansa wished she could stay in that moment forever.

Then Margaery was moving inside her, and Sansa wished never to go back to stillness. Margaery slipped out just a few inches, pressed back in steadily. She moved slowly but firmly, not giving Sansa even a moment to catch her breath.

Margaery lifted herself from her elbows, hands at Sansa’s sides. The new angle made Sansa gasp. Margaery was reaching deep inside her, deeper than anyone had been before. Sansa felt fuller than she ever had.

Margaery moved her hips faster, thrusting harder. The sound of their fucking, Margaery’s grunts, the slapping of their hips together, Sansa’s sighs of pleasure… it filled the room, echoed off the walls so Sansa felt surrounded, filled, fucked thoroughly.

Margaery leaned back down to her elbows, pressed her mouth to Sansa’s shoulder, biting and sucking. The very small part of Sansa’s brain that was still functional knew Margaery was going to leave a mark, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“Are you going to come for me, baby?” Margaery panted against her skin.

Sansa’s only answer was to groan and roll her hips against Margaery’s. She was so close to coming, so close she could almost taste it.

“What do you need?” Margaery asked.

Heat rose through Sansa. She knew there was one thing that could push her over the edge if Margaery kept fucking her like this.

“My neck….” She could barely string together her words. “Bite… ohgodsMargaeryfuck- bite my neck!”

Margaery growled against her for the second time that night, thrust into Sansa even harder, pressed a kiss to her neck. Then she suck her teeth in, hard but not bruising, and suckled her the flesh there.

White burst behind Sansa’s eyes and every muscle in her body spasmed. Her back arched, pressing herself hard against Margaery. She let out a scream that she was sure her neighbors would hear. Pleasure coursed through her body in hot and heavy waves as she clenched hard around Margaery’s cock.

Margaery kept up her thrusting, gentle now, letting Sansa ride her cock through her orgasm. She mouthed at Sansa’s neck, tongue soothing where her teeth had just been.

Sansa fell slack against the bed, legs limp, arms sagging against the silk restraining her.

“How are your arms, baby girl?” Margaery murmured. “Do you want me to untie you?”

Sansa blinked her eyes open, saw Margaery looking at her with gentleness and something else… something unreadable. She nodded, and Margaery’s fingers quickly loosed the scarves holding her down. She reached for Sansa’s hand, massaged her wrists and fingers.

“Does anything hurt?” she asked. “You can feel all your fingers?”

Sansa nodded again. “A little sore,” she managed. “Okay, though.”

“Good.” Margaery smiled down at her.

The softness in her eyes, the pet names Margaery had called her… they made Sansa feel lightheaded. She didn’t know if it was good or bad how much they made her feel safe, at home, cared for.

She needed to distract herself from whatever feeling was blooming in her chest. She reached for Margaery’s hips, pulled at the straps around them.

“Take that off and come here,” she told Margaery.

Margaery moved quickly, climbing off Sansa, loosening the straps and letting everything fall to the floor with a thud. Sansa patted the bed, reaching for Margaery’s hand. She guided Margaery up her body, up and up until Margaery was straddling her head, knees on either side.

Sansa could see even in the dim light of the bedroom the way Margaery’s sex glistened with her own arousal. It made Sansa’s cunt pulse, that fucking her had made Margaery so wet. She took her hips in both her hands and pulled her down to meet her mouth.

A loud groan flew from Margaery’s mouth when Sansa’s tongue pressed deep inside her. She rolled her hips against Sansa’s face. Sansa reached as deep as she could with her tongue, then flicked it up to Margaery’s clit. She pressed the flat of her tongue hard against her clit, and Margaery’s hips bucked into her. She took over from there, one hand on the headboard and the other coming down to tangle in Sansa’s hair.

Margaery’s hips pressed into her face over and over, rolling her clit against Sansa’s tongue. Sansa didn’t have to do anything but allow her mouth to be used. Her hands squeezed and kneaded at Margary’s ass. A thought hit her when Margaery groaned again, and she acted without thinking.

Sansa reached one hand down to her own lingering wetness, slipped a finger inside herself, wetting her finger. She brought her hand back up to Margaery’s ass, pressed between her cheeks, circled that pucker she knew Margaery loved to have teased.

Another groaned from Margaery told Sansa she was doing well. She pressed her finger a little harder against Margaery’s hole until she slipped just inside. Margaery’s hips rolled back almost as eagerly as the rocked forward against her tongue. Sansa pressed more, thrust her finger into Margaery’s ass just enough to give her pressure.

Then Margaery was coming hard against her tongue, asshole pulsing around her finger, slick gushing from her cunt into Sansa’s open mouth. Sansa moaned into Margaery’s cunt and that seemed to make for come even harder, clit throbbing against Margaery’s tongue. Margaery rocked gently against Sansa’s mouth for a few more moments, then she collapsed against the headboard.

“Come here,” Sansa mumbled against her thigh, slipping her finger from inside her. Margaery climbed awkwardly off Sansa’ face, moved to her side to curl up against her. Sansa wrapped her arm around Margaery, pulled her close, and Margaery rested her head against Sansa’s chest.

“You’re fucking amazing,” Sansa breathed into Margaery’s hair. “Fucking brilliant.”

“Thank you, little bird,” Margaery sighed. Her voice was thick with exhaustion. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Sansa laughed, pressed a kiss to Margaery’s head.

I could get used to this, she thought. And that is what scared her the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i turned myself on damn
> 
> yell at me in the comments! your comments and kudos and shit makes me smile!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa leaned against the door frame, a soft smile playing at her lips. Her chest felt tight and warm, in an almost inappropriately pleasant way. Margaery was more than she had bargained for. A warmth, a pressing joy, filled Sansa. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, not looking at anything in particular, just watching.

And so it went like that for weeks. Sansa planned a new outing every week, then Margaery took her home and fucked her brains out.

Sansa took Margaery out to dinner often, for sushi, Mexican, burgers, ramen. She took her to museums, spent hours watching Margaery pore over the artwork at the modern art museum downtown. She looked at the paintings the same way she had stared at the print in Sansa’s lobby: hands clasped behind her back, eyes intent, still and calm. Sansa always stood just a little behind her, pretended to study the paintings, but found herself studying Margaery. The little wisps of hair at the back of her neck when she pulled her hair up. The slope of her shoulders, the soft glow of her skin, the way her delicate fingers intertwined at the small of her back. Each time Margaery would look back over her shoulder, Sansa looked to the painting quickly, hoping Margaery would not catch her staring.

Sansa took her to the zoo. They visited all the animals, fed sheep at the petting zoo, walked and walked and walked, arm in arm. She took Margaery to see movies, didn’t say a word when Margaery lifted the arm rest between them and scooted closer to her, under Sansa arm, leaned her head against Sansa’s shoulder. She pretended that none of it mattered that much, that what she really cared about was the conversations they had together.

Margaery barely opened up. Anytime Sansa got too close, asked about her family, where she grew up, if she went to college, Margaery would avert her eyes, mumble “roses,” and put distance between them.

So Sansa stopped pushing so hard. She opened up to Margaery instead, convinced that over time Margaery would come to feel safe with her. She told Margaery about her family, how her dad had been the rock, the one that held them all together, how his death had devastated them. She told her about Jon, how he came to live with them when he was already nine years old, how her mother had hated him for so long but cherished him now, one more piece of her husband she could cling to. She talked about Bran’s car accident, the drunk driver who walked away unscathed while Bran lost all feeling below his waist. She complained often about working with Robb and Arya, how they drove her mad with both their cautiousness (Robb’s) and brashness (Arya). She bragged about Rickon’s soccer skills, how talented he was, how they thought he might just be able to play professionally.

And all the while Margaery smiled at her, asked her questions, squeezed Sansa’s hand when she told a difficult story. Sansa only wished that Margaery would be willing to open up with her, too.

After, though… after, Margaery always seemed to make Sansa forget the way Margaery held back from her. Because Margaery never held back in bed.

Margaery worked valiantly to learn each of the different sounds Sansa made, sighs and gasps and moans and cries, and worked even harder to pull them from Sansa every night they were together. She showed Sansa the joys of rope bondage, tying her spread eagle, or creating a harness to showcase her beautiful breasts, or binding her so she couldn’t move, trapped under Margaery’s hands and mouth. She introduced Sansa to a myriad of new toys: nipple clamps, anal plugs, vibrators of all shapes and sizes and function, and so so so many dildos. Sansa felt like every time they were together, Margaery pulled out something new to surprise, and pleasure, her with.

Sansa could never predict how she would spend a night with Margaery, and she had a feeling Margaery was very intentional about that. One night she would spend hours between Sansa’s legs, mouth working her pussy over and over again, wringing orgasm after orgasm from her until she was so exhausted that Margaery had to tuck her into bed. Another, Margaery would tease her, keep her on the edge, never let her come. She would use her mouth, her fingers, vibrators, and keep Sansa moments from orgasm until she couldn’t take it anymore and would beg Margaery for release. One night, Margaery barely had her in the door before Sansa was gagged and tied up on her knees, Margaery’s strap buried deep in her cunt.

Sansa quickly grew accustomed to sleeping late on Sunday mornings, waking to the smell of sex and Margaery around her. She spent her Sundays relaxed and unhurried. When she showed up to work on Mondays, she was cheary, energetic, and she smiled more than she had in years.

No matter how hard she tried to convince herself that what she had was purely as a client, like the relationship she had with her own clients that didn’t mean anything outside the office, Sansa could not seem to shake the feelings that were growing for Margaery. When Margaery smiled at her, she could almost feel her skin warming as if she were standing in the sun. Margaery’s laugh was enough to break Sansa out of even the most sullen mood. The gentle way her fingers brushed the hair back from Sansa’s neck so she could press her lips to her pulse made Sansa’s heart flutter every single time. And Sansa could swear she saw something in Margaery’s eyes, when she was soft and sated, something that seemed to point to something more.

_____________

It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Sansa had been at her mother’s with her brothers and Arya and Gendry all day Thursday, celebrating and eating and playing football in the backyard. (Yes, Arya had finally stopped pretending that she wasn’t seeing Gendry anymore, and yes, her brothers had loved interrogating him at his first Stark Family Holiday.)

On Friday night, Jon had convinced them to go out. It was the last time he would be home in gods knew how long, and he wanted to party with them. He had even managed to convince Bran to come out with them. With his wheelchair, he barely left home, but the holidays had him in high spirits. All of them, Robb, Jon, Bran, Arya, and Gendry, all managed to get smashed and they barely made it back to Sansa’s apartment. They all crashed at her place, passed out on the couch, and chairs, and the floor. Not even the sounds of Arya and Gendry going at it as quietly as possible in Sansa’s guest bathroom could keep them all awake.

When Sansa pulled herself out of bed around two in the afternoon on Saturday, she nearly panicked. She only had few hours to get the house in proper shape for Margaery to come over. They had pregamed at her apartment, and there were beer cans everywhere, pizza boxes all over the kitchen counter, and beer pong still half set up on her kitchen table.

It took nearly an hour for her to wake everyone and get them out of the apartment, all while trying to clean up. It was futile with everyone crowding her. She decided to shower and hope that they were all gone by the time she was out.

Thank the gods, they were. But they had done nothing to help her clean up. Not only was there the mess from their partying, but she still had the past week’s clutter to tidy up. Sansa grabbed a piece of pizza left in one of the boxes and set to work. She filled two garbage bags with trash, finished folding all the blankets strewn about the living room, and hadn’t even begun to tackle the kitchen when she heard a knock at the door.

It can’t be Margaery already, she thought. She checked the clock in the kitchen. It was 5:30.

“Margaery, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe you’re about to see this,” Sansa said as she opened the door.

“Woah, slow down, Sans,” Margaery was smiling at her. She looked as adorable as ever in a forest green sweater and black jeans. “What’s up, little bird?” She stepped around Sasna into the apartment.

Margaery had never seen her apartment less than immaculate. Sansa had made sure of that. She grimaced as Margaery looked around at what was left of the havoc her siblings had left in their wake.

“So, the great Sansa Stark isn’t perfect,” Margaery turned to her with a smirk. “I was beginning to worry that you’ve never done anything less than perfectly.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and laughed. “Oh, sure, right. You must not know me that well if you think I’m perfect. Besides, this mess isn’t mine. My siblings and I went out dancing last night and they crashed here. Left a bloody awful mess, too. As you can see.” She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed exasperatedly.

Margaery stepped a little closer to her, getting in Sansa’s space in a way that made her breath catch. It was getting harder and harder for Sansa to try not to kiss Margaery.

“You went out dancing, huh? I don’t know you danced.”

Sansa gulped. “Well, it looks like there’s still a few things you don’t know about me.” Margaery was so close, but not touching her. They stared into each other’s eyes until Sansa couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m really sorry, Margaery, but I have to finish this cleaning.” Sansa stepped back and started towards the kitchen. “I- well, I’ll still pay you, but I don’t know how long this is going to take me. I still have to mop up the spilled beer in the living room and clean the kitchen. Oh, fuck, and the bathroom needs scrubbed. After Arya and Gendry fucked in there… gods, it needs cleaned.”

“Well, why don’t you let me help? I already planned to be here, and I don’t have anything else to do so. Where’s your mop?”

Sansa just stared at her, mouth open, and eyes wide. Who was this woman? Always surprising her. She thought this was just sex, but maybe… Could there be something more? Who would volunteer to clean up after a mess they didn’t make?

Margaery was staring with amusement, clearly waiting for her.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t make you do that.”

“You’re not making me, I’m volunteering. Now, tell me where the mop is before I start digging around for it myself.”

So she did. She found the mop, and scrubbed the bathroom while Margaery worked on the living room floor. When she emerged from her deep clean, the floors were scrubbed, her bed had been neatly made, and the sink was running in the kitchen. Margaery had found a radio and was playing a top 40s radio, humming along while she did the dishes.

Sansa leaned against the door frame, a soft smile playing at her lips. Her chest felt tight and warm, in an almost inappropriately pleasant way. Margaery was more than she had bargained for. A warmth, a pressing joy, filled Sansa. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, not looking at anything in particular, just watching.

Margaery turned just enough to catch sight of Sansa, and she jumped with a shriek.

“Gods, Sansa! How long have you been standing there?!” One hand was over her heart.

Sansa just laughed. “I’m sorry, I- I’ve only been here a moment.” She stepped forward, put her hands on Margaery’s arms, rubbed them soothingly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, whatever,” Margaery pouted, pushing Sansa’s shoulders with her wet hands. “Come on, help me dry then.”

Sansa tossed a towel over one shoulder, started rinsing the clean dishes and drying them, placing them into stacks.

“Marge, you know you really didn’t have to do this,” Sansa mumbled, barely audible above the running water.

She felt Margaery freeze next to her.

“I hope you don’t feel like you had to do this because of… anything.”

“No one’s called me that in years.” Margaery’s voice was barely a whisper. The fork she had been washing fell from her hands into the sink with a plop. Sansa studied her face.

“What? Marge? Do you now like it? I won’t call you that again if it bothers-”

“No, it’s… My grandmother called me Marge.” A single tear ran down Margaery’s cheek. Sansa froze then, not sure what exactly Margaery was sharing with her, but she could tell it was important.

“Oh.” Sansa dried her hands slowly, moving as little as possible. Margaery looked sort of like a deer, frozen, like one wrong move could send her running.

“She died. They all died.”

Sansa held back the gasp she felt coming. She wanted to touch Margaery, to put a hand on her arm, to pull her into a hug, anything. But she could tell if she moved she would break whatever it was that was allowing Margaery to open up to her.

“There was a fire. A house fire. I had snuck out late with my friends. They were all asleep. The firemen couldn’t get there in time. They all died. My brothers, Renly and Loras. My father and mother. Grandmother Olenna. I came back to nothing. It was all gone.”

Her voice was soft, stuccato, as she spoke. The words seemed to almost sneak out of her mouth against her will. She stared out of the window above the sink, eyes unblinking.

“Grandmother always called me Marge. And Loras. Loras-” She choked on her words, a sob breaking free from her chest.

Sansa couldn’t stand it any longer. She reached out, tentatively, one hand on Margaery’s shoulder. At her touch, Margaery turned to her, buried her face in Sansa’s shoulders as sobs wracked her body, her wails filling the kitchen.

Sansa held her tight, murmured in her ear, “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. Let it out. I’m here, love. I’m not going anywhere.” Sansa felt a tear make its way down her own cheek. She rocked back and forth gently. Margery gasped for breath between sobs.

Sansa couldn’t have said how long they stood there, tangled in each other. Sansa brushed her fingers through Margaery’s hair, rubbed her back, hummed in her ear, anything she could think of to try to comfort her.

Finally, Margaery’s sobs quieted to shuddering breaths. Sansa spoke gently to her again. “I’m so sorry, Margaery.”

“It’s alright,” Margaery breathed against her neck. “It was years ago. Seventeen years ago.” She took a deep breath and started to pull back. Sansa didn’t let her go right away, pressed her lips to the top of Margaery’s head, then loosened her arms so Margaery could lean back.

“What can I do?” Sansa whispered, trying to get Margaery to meet her eyes, but she kept looking down at her hands, tangling and untangling her fingers. A nervous habit, Sansa noticed. She gave Margaery time to speak. Sansa wondered if she was scared to ask for what she needed. Maybe giving her options would be helpful.

“You’re welcome to go, if you want to be alone,” she said gently, though she was hopeful Margaery wouldn’t want that.

Margaery shook her head firmly. “Please don’t make me leave,” she whispered desperately. She leaned back into Sansa, pressing her face to her neck. “I can’t be alone right now.” Sansa felt the dampness of more tears against her skin.

“Oh, no, Marge, it’s okay, you don’t have to leave.” Margaery tensed at the nickname, and Sansa mentally kicked herself for letting it slip again. “You can stay. I want you to stay. We can just- we can watch a movie, or just sit on the couch, or we just lie in bed if you want. There’s leftover pizza if you want something to eat.”

Margaery laughed gently against her neck. “I don’t think I want your brothers’ leftovers,” she said. Sansa could feel her smile against her skin. Everything is going to be okay, she thought to herself. I haven’t ruined this.

“Well, fine then,” she muttered. “I’ll order Thai if you want. We can watch a movie? How does that sound?”

“Good. That sounds good.” But Margaery didn’t let her go. She kept her arms around Sansa’s waist, breathing against Sansa’s neck. Sansa rubbed her hand up and down Margaery’s back, drawing on all the comforting energy she could muster to help calm Margaery.

After a while, Margaery let go, but she slipped her hand into Sansa’s, tangling their fingers, like she was scared if she lost contact with her that Sansa might disappear. Sansa smiled at her when Margaery finally lifted her eyes to meet Sansa’s. Margaery’s chin quivered like she might start crying again. There was nothing Sansa wanted more than to press her lips to Margaery’s, to steady her, to keep her grounded. But it was also the last thing she wanted, to push fragile Margaery too far, to break her one rule when she was so vulnerable.

Instead, she just led Margaery to the couch and turned on Netflix, handing the remote over to Margaery while she called in their Thai order. Maybe Sansa knew exactly what Margaery liked form the Thai place around the corner from her apartment. Maybe it meant something, maybe it didn’t. That wasn’t the time to think like that, though.

By the time she hung up, Margery had settled on Criminal Minds. (“Nothing like a good murder to cheer you up, right?” Margaery had joked.) Margaery leaned in close to Sansa, legs pulled up next to her on the couch. Sansa wrapped an arm around her, pulled her in close. As they watched, she could feel the shuddery breathing of Margaery crying quietly against her. She never acknowledged it except to run her fingers gently over Margaery’s arm.

When their food came, Sansa brought in plates from the kitchen and they ate in silence. Twice, Netlfilx asked if they were still watching, and it pulled a grumble from Margaery’s lips every time. (“Stop asking me, you judgey piece of technology.”) Every now and then, Sansa would feel the gentle shaking of Margaery’s shoulders as she cried. Sansa wondered if Margaery had ever taken the time to feel all this pain before or if it was just welling up anew. She felt equally guilty for bringing it up and thankful that she was the one that Margaery opened up to.

After a while, Margaery fell asleep against Sansa’s shoulder. As she listened carefully to her steady breathing as it slowed in sleep, Sansa found herself dozing off, too, the weight and warmth of Margaery’s body against her lulling her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never written so much so fast. This chapter is one I’ve been planning for a while, and I’m so excited to share it with you all. More plot, slightly less porn ahead, but still porn. Just. More feelings. So. Buckle up, bitches.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa can’t get Margaery off her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to StarksDeservedBetter for their advice and encouragement! hope you enjoy you’re reward!

The clatter of keys dropped on the hardwood floor jolted Sansa from her sleep. She sat upright on the couch, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Her fingers tingled. No, her whole arm was tingling. It must have gone numb from Margaery sleeping next to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Margaery whispered as she picked up the keys.

“It’s okay,” Sansa said through a yawn. “You’re leaving?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s 2am.” Margaery sounded exhausted. 

“Are you sure you can get home okay? You sound like you’re about to fall back asleep standing there.” Sansa was concerned. Margaery had been through a lot the past few hours emotionally, and she just… she wanted her to be safe.

Margaery insisted though. “I’m fine. It’s okay. I’ve driven home after a lot worse than an emotional night.”

“Okay, well. Text me when you get home?”

Margaery sighed. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea….”

Sansa got up and went to Margaery’s side. “As a friend, please. I just want to know you’re safe.” She took Margaery’s hand, rubbed her thumb over the back of her hand, trying to be reassuring. She knew the whole night had been one big step over the boundaries she had given herself. She was supposed to be keeping her distance. She was supposed to be holding back. She wasn’t supposed to feel so deeply for Margaery. She had promised she wouldn’t. She needed to dial it back. Stop putting herself in a position to start to think of Margaery as something more.

But she couldn’t stop herself. Especially after what Margaery shared with her. She had no expectation of Margaery to reciprocate her feelings. She knew it was just a job for Margaery, that she was doing this to get paid. But to Sansa, that didn’t really matter. Margaery needed someone to care for her, really care for her. Maybe she was being a presumptuous ass to assume that none of her other clients really cared for her. Maybe she had other people. But the way she looked at Sansa, the way she had opened up to her…. It felt like she hadn’t done that in a very long time.

Sansa’s genuine concern must have come through loud and clear. Margaery just nodded, then squeezed Sansa’s hand and let go.

“Fine, I’ll text you. I should go now, though. I’ll see you next week.”

Sansa closed the door behind her, leaned her forehead against it, sighed long and deep. She was in too deep. She was in far too deep.

Sansa lay in bed awake, her phone lying on her stomach, waiting for Margaery’s text. She wasn’t sure it would come. Margaery had seemed so hesitant to reach out. But Sansa was hopefully.

Finally, her phone chimed.

[I’m home. Thank you for your thoughtfulness. See you next week. -M]

Sasna released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

[okay, good. see you then.]

Short and sweet, Sansa, she told herself. Don’t overdo it or you’ll scare her away.

As she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t stop her mind from lingering on the way it had felt to hold Margaery to her, their bodies pressed together, Margaery’s breath against her neck. She had felt safe, and she thought maybe Margaery did, too. 

_______________

When Sansa woke the next morning, there was a text waiting for her. It was from Margaery.

[Thank you for being so gracious last night. I’m sorry I didn’t provide the services you paid for, so I would like to see you another night this week to make up for it. Would Tuesday work for you? -M]

The text was timestamped 5:17 AM.

“Gods, Marge, what are you doing up so early?” she muttered to herself. She tapped out a quick response.

[you don’t have to feel bad at all. I didn’t mind in the least. but you know i’d be happy to see you again if you really want to.]

Sansa’s clock told her it was just after ten. She needed to get up. She rarely had things to do on Sunday, but she had to put the final touches on her opening statements for a client who was going to trial on Monday.

Sansa’s phone chimed. It was Margaery already. Sansa hadn’t expected a quick response. Margaery had texted her hours ago. Surely she wasn’t waiting by her phone for a response?

[Alright, then. Tuesday. Don’t make plans to go out. I’ll see you after work. Does 8pm work? -M]

[sure thing. i’ll see you then. should i be prepared for anything?]

Sansa didn’t know what Margaery had in mind for the even, but she could assume it would be… pleasant no matter what.

Margaery was quick to respond.

[No need to prepare. Just be ready to see me at 8. -M]

Sansa felt very conflicted. She hated that Margaery felt like she needed to repay her for anything that did or didn’t happen the night before. And the money didn’t matter to her at all. But she was excited to see Margaery again, and she was very much looking forward to whatever Margaery had planned for their time together. Margaery was truly a goddess in bed. Every time she had brought something new to bed, Sansa had loved it. Even the nipple clamps. Turns out she really liked the nipple clamps.

Sansa groaned aloud. The anticipation was going to kill her. She slipped out of her sleep shirt and made her way to the bathroom, turning the shower on. As she stepped in and started to wash up. As she ran her fingers through her hair, massaging shampoo into her scalp, she couldn’t pull her thoughts away from Margaery. Her soft skin. The way her hair fanned out on the bed beneath her, like one of those paintings of the saints. The heat of her cunt under Sansa’s fingers….

She rinsed her hair out, tried to clear her mind. Focus on the case she needed to work on. She tried to run through a checklist of things she needed to do, but her mind wouldn’t settle. She had a feeling she knew what would help, but she didn’t want to go there. She kept washing, mumbling over her opening statement as she remembered while her hands worked form memory.

When she was clean, standing still under the warm spray of water, she couldn’t take it anymore. She let her mind go and images of Margaery came to her mind’s eye instantly. Margaery on her knees, mouth between Sansa’s legs. Margaery leaning over her, cock filling her with each thrust of her hips. Margaery on her back, legs spread, Sansa’s own cunt grinding against Margaery’s. All the lewd moans she had drawn from Margaery that night.

Sansa reached for the removable shower head, move the streams of water slowly up her thigh, closer and closer. When the jets pulsed against the edge of her vulva, Sansa let out a yelp. She did this so rarely she wasn’t used to it, the direct and powerful stimulation. She forced herself to hold it still, called to mind the way Margaery had fucked her from behind last week, the slap of their thighs as Margaery thrust, the stretching and filling and pounding in her cunt.

She inched the showerhead closer to her clit. She bit her lip hard, the pressure was so intense. She focused on the memory of Margaery’s strap, thick and long, feeling it fill her so fully. She remembered how she came, how Margaery fucked her for what felt like hours, until she was just grinding against her ass, Sansa collapsed on the bed. She could almost hear their moans mingled together. Sansa remembered that fullness, the way she pressed against the mattress looking for any friction she could get. She moved the showerhead just a little closer.

She remembered Margaery’s hand slipping beneath her, sliding a finger over her clit as she moaned in Sansa’s ear, “I’m going to come, Sans.” She remembered the shiver that ran down her spine. Margaery came hard against her ass, thrusting deep into her cunt, and still managed to pressed had against Sansa’s clit.

With that memory, Sansa let the showerhead pulse fully against her clit, and then she came hard, biting down on her hand as a groan fell from her lips. Her hips thrust against nothing as the water pounded against her clit.

The pulsing jet of water threw her into a second orgasm before she even knew what was happening. She jerked the showerhead away, collapsing against the tile wall.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Sansa mumbled to herself. “I need to get it together.”

As she dried off from her shower and dressed, she promised herself that she would be able to push Margaery from her mind after those two orgasms. That should be enough to let her focus, right?

She made it halfway through editing her opening statement before had to go “take a break” to bring herself off again lying on the couch. As her clit throbbed against her fingertips, she swore that would be the last time.

She made it all the way to bed before she had her own dildo out, pounding her own her cunt and pinching her nipples with her free hand. She didn’t come then, but she was able to sate her aching need to be filled long enough to get some sleep.

_______________

Sansa could hardly remember how she made it to Tuesday night. She was in court all day Monday, managing to stay undistracted long enough to get through the start of the trial. She knew it would be a short trial (there was little evidence, and definitely not enough to convict her client), so she wasn’t too worried. Tuesday morning she was on a conference call with Arya and a potential corporate client in France which took ages because of translating back and forth. Arya was the one taking on the case, so Sansa didn’t need to pay quite as much attention. Still, she managed to only let her thoughts slip to Margaery twice. (Okay, three times.)

Thankfully the office was quiet Tuesday afternoon, and Sansa was home in plenty of time to cook dinner and be ready for Margaery. Even with all the times she had touched herself Sunday (and Monday night, and Tuesday on her lunch in her private bathroom, and Tuesday evening in the car right before she drove home), Sansa still felt like she was buzzing with arousal. Nothing had been able to sate her appetite to be filled by Margaery. Masturbating was nice, but it was nothing like what Margaery could do to her body.

When it was finally 8 o’clock and Margaery finally knocked on her door, Margaery felt her cunt clench at the thought of the person on the other side of the door.

When she opened the door, Sansa pulled Margaery into a hug, wrapping her arms tight around her waist. Margaery seemed to melt into her, her body relaxing as if she had just put down a heavy weight.

Sansa tried to hold back. She really did. She just didn’t try very hard.

She pressed a kiss to Margaery’s forehead, then her cheek, then her neck. She flicked her tongue out to lick her pulse, sucked gently at the skin there.

“My, Sansa, you are eager,” Margaery purred in her ear.

“I missed you,” Sansa huffed against her skin, pressing kisses down her neck to her shoulder, her collarbones.

“You just saw me three days ago.” Sansa could tell Margaery was trying to sound unaffected, but her voice was breathy as she spoke. “When I said I wanted you to be ready for me, I didn’t expect you to be this ready.”

“I’ve been feeling incredibly… ready.” That was an understatement, Sansa knew, but she wasn’t sure how to tell Margaery she’d barely been able to think straight and had set a personal record for the number of orgasms she could give herself in 3 days.

“Well, go lie on your bed,” Margaery said. “Take off your clothes. I’m right behind you.”

Sansa moved to pull away from the embrace, but Margaery didn’t let her go.

“Ah, wait,” she said. Sansa looked up to meet her eyes. “I almost forgot. Pick a number between one and five.”

“Four,” Sansa said without thinking. Margaery’s smirk grew three sizes, and somehow Sansa knew that her lucky number had betrayed her somehow.

Margaery chuckled. “Well, alright then.” She dropped her arms from Sansa’s shoulders. “Go on, get ready for me.”

“But, what-”

“Now, Sansa.” Margaery’s voice took on a tone that brooked no argument. Sansa nodded and made her way to her room, stripping as she went. She prayed to all the gods that Margaery had a strap in that bag she had come to think of as the Magical Sex Bag. She hadn’t noticed it for a while, but when she did, she realized Margaery always had something special in store for her.

Margaery’s hadn’t lied, she was right behind Sansa. As Sansa climbed onto the bed, Margaery reach into her bag. Sansa shivered in delight when she saw Margaery take out one of her favorite straps, thick and ribbed near the base, bright purple. But she groaned when she saw the next toy: Margaery’s favorite hitachi vibrator. Sansa wouldn’t have said she hated it, but it was definitely a toy she had come to associate with Margaery teasing her.

“Now, little bird. Are you ready to hear my plan?” Margaery climbed onto the bed next to her. She ran her fingers over Sansa’s bare stomach, goosebumps lighting up her skin at the gentle touch.

Sansa sighed. “Yes, please.”

Margaery scooted down to lay on her side next to Sansa. She rested her chin on her shoulder, breath ghosting across Sansa’s neck, her arm across Sansa’s stomach. “First, I’m going to make you come with that vibrator,” she whispered into Sansa’s ear. “You’ve already decided how many times. Four is a lot, but I think you can do it.”

Sansa groaned, hand reaching for Margaery’s, squeezing her fingers tight.

“Oh, Marge please,” she groaned. “I don’t think I can, please.”

“Well, you know what to say if you can’t, don’t you?”

Sansa nodded.

“Tell me.” Margaery trailed her fingers up Sansa’s arm.

“Wolfsbane,” Sansa breathed.

“Good girl. Do you want to know what you get if you can come for me like a good girl?” Margery licked the shell of her ear and Sansa shuddered.

“Yes,” she gasped. Her body felt on fire.

“I’ll fuck you with my cock until you beg me to stop.”

Sansa thought she was going to come right then and there. “Oh, gods, Margaery please,” she begged.

“Now, now, little bird,” Margaery purred. “You can’t start begging so soon.”

“Marge, I really don’t know if I can.” Sansa grabbed her arm desperately as Margaery tried to sit up.

“Why not? I don’t arouse you anymore?”

“Fuck, no, that’s not it. I just- I, well- I don’t-” Sansa stuttered, trying to find the words. “I’ve already… Well, I- alreadycameseventimessinceSunday….”

Margaery’s smirk grew. “Aren’t you a naugthy girl. Tell me how you did it.”

“What?” Sansa blushed bright red. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. If you don’t tell me, I won’t make you come. And if I don’t make you come, I don’t get to fuck you. And I know how much you love my cock filling your tight little cunt.” Margaery spoke every word against Sansa’s ear, her hot breath washing over Sansa. She would blame that for the heat rising in her and for the flood of wetness she could feel between her legs. It wasn’t from the way Margaery was talking to her. Definitely not.

She swallowed hard. “The showerhead. My hands. My own dildo. Mostly my hands.”

Margaery didn’t say anything, but Sansa could hear her gulp audibly. And she thought maybe she had felt Margaery shudder against her.

“Gods, Sansa.” Margaery’s voice was barely a whisper. “So fucking hot. I need you to come for me now, good girl. Can you try?”

Sansa whined, but nodded her head.

“Good girl.” Margaery pressed a kiss to her neck, then moved away from her.

Sansa eyes were shut tight, trying to will down the pulsing between her thighs and arousal she was sure had to be dripping down the inside of her thighs. She jumped when she heard Margaery switch the vibrator on.

Without any warning, Margaery pressed the wand hard against her clit, and Sansa came instantly. Margaery only held it there for a moment before pulling away, letting the waves of Sansa’s orgasm flood through her.

“Fuck,” Sansa groaned. “Is that turned all the way up?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I’ll turn it down. I just wanted to see if you could come that quickly.” Sansa didn’t need to open her eyes to know that Margaery’s wicked smirk was back on her lips.

“Hold on now, my good girl,” Margaery said. “One down, three to go.”

Sansa gripped the sheet with one hand and bit down on the other and Margaery trailed the vibrator up the inside of her thigh, to her core. She let it vibrate gently against Sansa’s entrance before moving it up to her clit again. It was on a much lower setting, but it still made Sansa feel like her bones were rattling. A groan fell from her, barely muffled by the hand between her teeth.

“Come now, Sansa,” Margaery murmured. “The sooner you come, the sooner you can get fucked.” Sansa’s hips bucked against the vibrator at her words, thrusting up against it until she felt the tightness at the base of her spine again.

“Please,” she whined, pulling her hand from her mouth. Margaery seemed to know exactly what she needed. She clicked the wand up one setting, and Sansa was coming. A wanton moan burst from her, back arching as her whole body pulsed.

Margaery didn’t let up for a moment, though. She turned it up another setting, the buzzing almost painful. Sansa cried out, reaching for Margaery as she did. Margaery took her hand, letting Sansa squeeze her fingers and she shook almost violently, a third orgasm ripping through her. 

“Please, no more!” Sansa nearly screamed. Margaery pulled the vibrator away from her, and Sansa gasped for breath. She didn’t let go of Margaery’s hand, and Margaery didn’t try to pull away. 

“Please, Marge, please, I can’t,” Sansa begged. “I can’t, please.”

“Yes, you can,” Margaery said, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “One more, love. You can do it.”

Margaery pressed the still buzzing vibrator to her cunt again. 

“Oh, no, please, Margaery!” Sansa cried out, tears pricking her eyes.

“Shhh… it’s okay, Sans. You’ve got this.” Margaery didn’t let up even in a little. Instead she pressed the setting one more, almost full strength.

It was bordering on painful, and Sansa didn’t think she could take it much longer, almost started to say her safeword, but Margaery turned the setting up once more and sucked all the air from her lungs. 

Sansa pussy clenched hard on nothing, her clit pulsed once, twice, an almost painful third time, and she came. Hard. Everything went white and her whole body seemed to pulse in time with her clit. Pleasure coursed through her like fire in her veins.

When she came back to herself, Margaery was pressed to her side again, fingers stroking her stomach, now slick with sweat. She was mumbling against Sansa’s neck words she wasn’t sure Margaery intended for her to hear. 

“What a good girl, Sans. My good girl. You’re alright, love. You did it, you did so good for me. My good girl.”

When Sansa eyes opened, Margaery sat up to lean over her.

“Are you alright, Sans?” she asked gently.

It was all Sansa could do to nod. She felt heavy, blissed out, content.

“You still want my cock, baby girl?”

Sansa nodded again. It was all she wanted. It was what she had suffered for. It’s what she’d been thinking about for days.

Margaery’s sudden absence didn’t bother her. She knew she was going to get her strap, to get ready to fuck her. She closed her eyes, content to wait for her lover.

(Lover? She’d have to think about that later.)

After the rustling of the harness, she felt Margaery settle between her spread legs, then lean forward to rest on her elbows above Sansa. She opened her eyes then, looked up into Margaery’s expecting to find a smirk. But she only found a soft smile, Margaery’s eyes shining with something Sansa could only call fondness. 

When she felt the head of the cock press against her entrance, her eyes shut again. She was so tired, but she couldn’t pass up on the chance for Margaery to fill her up. 

And Margaery did. She slipped inside, thrust deep into Sansa, pressed their bodies close together. Sansa moaned, finally full like she’d been imagining for days.

Margaery pressed close, thrusts shallow, but deep. She ground against Sansa, and even in her sex-addled state, she could tell Margaery was chasing her own pleasure.

For what could have been minutes or hours, Sansa didn’t know, she lay like that with Margaery, filled to the brim as Margaery took her pleasure from Sansa’s body. Their skin was slick with sweat, sliding against each other with each of Margaery’s thrusts until Sansa felt Margaery tense above her and come hard inside her.

“Do you… need more?” Margaery panted.

“No, love,” Sansa breathed against Margaery’s neck. “Just… stay with me a little longer?”

And she did. Slipping the strap from inside her and squirming out of the harness, Margaery laid with Sansa until Sansa drifted off.

Sansa dreamed of Margaery, walking through a park with her, hand in hand, the cool metal of a ring on her left hand the only thing she remembered when she woke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you wanna talk Sansaery, hit me up on discord @imhereforit#6732
> 
> thanks again to StarksDeservedBetter for the inspo and advice.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s true, what someone had said once: the cure for anything is salt water- sweat, tears, or the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You needy folks requested Margaery’s point of view. Now you’ve got it.

Margaery managed to avoid dropping her keys on the floor and waking Sansa this time. She slipped out quietly, checking her watch as she walked. It was only just past midnight.

Breath in, breath out, she told herself. Deep breaths.

She kept a steady pace to her car, refusing to run. She wanted to run. She wanted to run far away. She wanted to speed out of that parking lot, all the way to the coast, distance be damned.

It’s true, what someone had said once: the cure for anything is salt water- sweat, tears, or the sea.

She’d tried the first two. Every time she saw Sansa, she had run after. She ran for miles, sometimes at 2 in the morning. Her calves and lungs hated her, but usually it was enough to calm her mind so she could sleep. Luckily Sansa paid her more than enough to keep her in running shoes.

Lately, it hadn’t been working though. No matter how far she ran, how hard she tried to exhaust herself, it couldn’t stop her racing thoughts. The tears had been coming more often, her mind working overtime to try to grasp what was happening. 

What was Sansa’s intent?

Was she going to hurt Margaery eventually?

Could Margaery even hope to get out unscathed?

Margaery slid into her car, shut the door, and started the engine. She braced her hands on the steering wheel, flexing her fingers on the cool leather. The tears she’d shed these the past three days over Sansa had seemed like they would never end. Her skin was dry around her and her eyes still burned a little. She started counting backwards from ten, taking deep breaths and trying to center herself, eyes closed tight against the tears.

Ten.

She saw Sansa’s face, smiling widely as she told Margaery some outlandish story about her brothers.

Nine.

She could feel Sansa’s soft skin under her hands, the few times she allowed herself to be slow enough, just for a moment, to try to memorize that soft touch.

Eight.

Sansa’s hot breath against her neck.

Seven.

“Marge.”

Six.

Sansa’s arms tight around her.

Five.

The tightness of her throat as she sobbed into Sansa’s shoulder.

Four.

The comfort she felt falling asleep pressed against Sansa.

Three.

The fire.

Two.

Loneliness.

One.

The tears flowed suddenly and violently, a sob breaking from her chest.

Margaery had promised herself she would never let this happen again. She had rules. She didn’t kiss Sansa. She didn’t stay the night. She kept her secrets. She stayed closed up. It hadn’t saved her.

She had known from that first drunken night together months ago that Sansa could have ruined her, could have taken her heart right out of her chest if she was allowed. Margaery tried not to allow it. She tried to keep her walls high, no matter how many times she had wanted to tear them down and throw herself into Sansa’s arms.

She knew Sansa could love her. Sansa might already love her. But she refused to let herself love again. Told herself there was no love left in her heart to give. Only the image of love, a poor replica meant to convince others.

Margery breathed through her tears, shifted into drive and headed east. She knew the way. Her focus was weak, but she didn’t need it. She knew where she was going.

It was nearly dawn when she made it. Empty. Numb. Truly alone.

No one had ever rebuilt the house. All that was left was the concrete slab, and further down, where the sea met the land, a dock. A place her brothers had played with her often, leaping and diving and throwing each other into the gentle waves. She could almost hear her grandmother’s laugh on the breeze.

The tears didn’t stop, nearly freezing in the cold wind. The sky was turning purple and pink, the sun coming up on the horizon. How many times had she actually watched it? In her whole time living there, her whole childhood, she couldn’t remember watching it once. How many other opportunities had she lost here?

Margaery walked down to the dock, laying on the rough wood. She let the cold air numb her body. She needed to stop feeling so much. She couldn’t take it.

She made a resolution, lying there, cold and alone.

No more of these… dates. Her heart could not handle it. Sex. That’s what she had agreed to. That’s what she was paid for. She could satisfy Sansa and leave. That’s what it had to be. Otherwise… she wasn’t sure she could handle another heartbreak in her life. No one ever chose her. No one ever let her in, not truly. She was alone, fully and honestly alone. 

She slept in the back of her car for a few hours before driving back home to shower and meet another client. As the heat of her shower warmed her skin and washed away the smell of salt, she focused on pulling the mask back on.

Sansa would not break her. Margaery refused to let her. She refused to fall for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s short, but it’s all you’re getting! I know we all needed a look at things through Margaery’s eyes, so here you go. 
> 
> I live for kudos and comments. Hit me up on Discord if you wanna scream at me for this. imhereforit#6732
> 
> Love you, bitches and butches!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do when you realize your mouth made a promise your heart can’t keep?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think i mentioned this before, but anything in brackets is a text. I’m guessing that was clear, but thought I’d make sure.

[Before we do anything tonight, we need to talk. -M]

Sansa had been staring at that text for hours, anxiety gripping her heart. She couldn’t take it anymore. She checked the clock. It was only 5pm. Margaery wouldn’t be around until 5:30 at the earliest. She still had time.

She dialed Arya’s number without thinking, unable to keep it to herself anymore.

She answered on the first ring.

“Oh! Sansa, what’s up!” She sounded out of breath.

“Hey, you got a second?” Sansa knew her voice was shaking, but she was barely holding it together.

“Ah! Um, sure- just-” A muffled moan filled Sansa’s ear, and a slapping sound.

“Oh my- fucking- are you kidding me, Arya?!”

She could hear panting in the background, a deep voice groaning, “Don’t stop, Ary, please….”

Sansa gagged when she realized what was going on. “Arya Stark. Did you answer the phone while you’re fucking your boyfriend?!”

“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s-” Sansa hung up before Arya could say another word. She gagged again and shook her head, trying to rid her ears of the sounds she had heard.

Of course Arya would still fucking pick up the phone while they were in the middle of going at it. The logical part of her mind started to try to sort out what exactly had been happening, but she shut that down quickly. There was no way she was going to try to figure out what her sister and her boyfriend were up to in bed.

Sansa flopped down on the couch, throwing her legs over the arm. She tried to take deep breaths, willing herself to relax even a little bit. Margaery was going to end their arrangement. Margaery was getting bored with her. That had to be it. Or maybe she just wasn’t enjoying the sex anymore. Maybe Sansa was just too… inexperienced. Maybe she didn’t pleasure Margaery enough.

She knew this had been a possibility, that it wouldn’t last. That she wouldn’t be enough. (She was never enough.) Or that she would be too boring. (Everyone thought she was boring.) Margaery had taken a little longer to catch on than most people did.

Sansa let thoughts and feelings rush over her that she had been holding back for weeks. It was all ending, so she might as well feel it all.

After her last relationship, she thought she would be able to take it slow. She thought she could handle herself. She had never really been interested in women romantically. Sexually, sure. She was definitely bisexual. But she’d never met a woman she thought she could actually be in a relationship with. Women were difficult, emotional, occasionally irrational. Sansa would never date herself. It would be a nightmare. She wasn’t sure how queer women handled all that estrogen in one relationship.

When she drunkenly decided to hire Margaery, she hadn’t thought twice. She’d kissed girls a couple of times, and that made her feel- well, it made her feel… things… in certain… areas. So yeah, she knew she’d like sleeping with a woman. She never imagined developing feelings for a woman, though. That’s why hiring an escort was supposed to be easy. It was their job to have sex and not let feelings interfere.

Then she had decided to see Margaery again. Because the sex was good. It was so good. Like, made Sansa question how she could ever be with a man again, good. And it made her feel calmer, more relaxed, more focused. It made her daily morning workouts easier. (And she finally had a good reason to work out beyond aesthetics: that surprised little noise Margaery made whenever Sansa lifted her off the ground and carried her to bed.) So yeah, she was going to see Margaery again. Regularly. It made sense.

Until she insisted that they do something else besides just have sex. She hadn’t wanted Margaery to feel like that’s all she was to her, some sex object. She wanted to show her that she saw Margaery as a person.

And fucking gods above and below, that had backfired on her.

Because she knew what Margaery’s laugh sounded like. (And she never wanted to stop hearing it.)

She knew what made her smile. (Gods, that smile.)

She knew what foods would cheer her, and what flavor of ice cream she liked best.

She knew what made Margery happy. And she never wanted to see her less than happy.

Her chest hurt, and Sansa realized that a tear was sliding down her cheek. She tried to hold back from letting any more fall, but when she thought about the way Margaery smiled at her over pasta at that Italian place, the sighs she loosed against Sansa’s neck when Sansa had her fingers buried inside her, the smirk she could feel against her thigh when Margaery kissed her way to Sansa’s cunt, the sound of her voice in Sansa’s ear…. It was too much.

The tears broke loose without her permission. She threw her arm over face, tried to sink deeper into the couch, clenched her teeth against the sobs trying to form. Every moment she replayed in her mind made her chest tighten and her stomach drop even further. 

She promised Margaery she wouldn’t fall in love with her. But she was having a hell of a time keeping her promise.

A sudden knock at the door jolted her upright. Margaery.

Sansa held back the whine that tried to slip from her lips, wiping furiously at her eyes with her shirt sleeves. She didn’t want Margaery to know she had been crying, but she knew it was going to be obvious.

She stood before the door and took a deep breath.

When she opened the door, Margaery looked like she wasn’t in a much better state than Sansa. Here eyes were red and watery, like she, too, had just been crying.

They just stood there, staring at each other for a long moment. Then wordlessly, Sansa stepped aside and Margaery moved to the couch, sitting down at the far end. Sansa could feel more tears prickling hot in her eyes, but she took another deep breath and set down next to Margaery. Not too close, but close enough that Margaery could reach out and touch her if she wanted.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Sansa whispered, her voice too weak to speak much louder.

Margaery turned to look at her. “I don’t-” 

“No, it’s okay,” Sansa said, a little stronger this time. “It’s not working anymore and you want out. I get it. I tried to keep my feelings out of it, I really did, but I get it if I went too far and-”

“Sansa.” Margaery took her hand from where she was twisting her fingers together in her lap. “Sansa, just let me talk.”

“Please just tell me if you’re ending this.” Sansa’s voice was little more than a whine. She couldn’t stop the tears anymore, her face crumbling as she tried to stay strong.

“Oh, little bird,” Margaery murmured. Suddenly, she was beside Sasna, pulling her close, pressing Sansa’s head to her chest. Sansa fell into her, arms wrapping around her waist, and the sobs came in earnest. Margaery’s hand rubbed up and down her back, the other cradling the back of her head, playing with the hairs at the back of her neck.

“I’m not ending it, Sans. I don’t want to end this.” Margaery pressed a kiss to her head. “I can’t let you go,” she whispered into her hair.

“Oh, gods,” Sansa gasped. Instead of calming though, the sobs came harder, this time from relief. Margaery held her through them, rocking her back and forth, one hand comfortingly at her back, the other stroking her hair.

When Sansa’s breaths finally calmed and the tears dried up, she slipped from Margaery’s arms and sat up fully.

“Gods, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice still thick with tears. “Gods, I’m sorry. I just- I’ve been thinking all day, since I got your text-”

“I’m sorry I was so vague,” Margaery interrupted. “I shouldn’t have sent that. I just didn’t want to ruin any plans you made, and I wanted to give you a heads up. I should have known something was wrong when you didn’t respond.”

“It’s okay. I overreacted, clearly.” Sansa took a deep breath. “Alright, then. If you’re not ending this, then what did you need to talk to me about?”

It was Margaery’s turn to take a deep breath. Her hands were folded in her lap, but Sansa could see her grip was turning her knuckles white. She was looking down intently at her lap, and Sansa reached out to place a hand on her shoulder.

“What is it, Marge?” Sansa asked.

“I like it when you call me that,” Margaery whispered. Sansa didn’t think she meant to say it, as she turned red as soon as the words were out of her mouth. But she didn’t seem like she was going to acknowledge it, so neither did Sansa.

Margaery cleared her throat. “I think that we need to stop going out when we see each other.” Her voice was steady and measured, like she was contemplating each word before she said it. “I have been letting myself get… too attached. It’s becoming harder to see you as just a client. So. I need us to take a step back. I want to keep seeing you, if you want, of course. But… we need to stick to sex. Because the rest- talking… it’s too hard.”

Sansa sighed, eyes closing against the tears that threatened to come again. 

“Of course, Margaery.” Her voice was barely a sigh. “Of course. Whatever you need. I only wanted you to know that I see you. That I know you’re a real person, a whole person, outside my bedroom.”

Sansa watched a tear land on Margaery’s knuckles, then another, as she cried silently. “I know you do,” Margaery breathed. “You are… too good to me.”

Sansa’s heart broke. She couldn’t sit still next to Margaery any longer. She slipped one hand into her hair, exposing her neck for Sansa’s lips. It was a chaste kiss, really, and one she desperately wished she could have pressed to her lips instead. But when she felt the way Margaery melted into her, she was content. Sansa wrapped her arms around Margaery and pulled her close, then leaned back and laid them both down next to each other, Margaery’s back pressed to her front. She pulled her close, held her tight, as she felt the little sobbing breaths shake Margaery’s chest.

They lay like that for a long time, Margaery letting the tears fall, and Sansa pressing kisses to her neck and shoulders. She was not really sure why Margaery was crying, if it was fear or sadness, or if she was just overwhelmed. But she held her through it, silent with her until she stilled.

Sansa let go of Margaery, bringing the arm that wasn’t tucked under Margaery up to her side. She trailed her fingers over Margaery’s arm and side and hip. She felt a shudder run through Margaery as her fingers brushed her thigh. She didn’t stop, and soon Margaery was shuddering against her, letting out a shaky breath whenever Sansa’s finger drifted up the front of her thigh.

Sansa pressed a kiss just behind Margaery’s ear. “I want to make you feel good,” she breathed against her ear. “Will you let me?”

She felt Margaery nod, and let her hand drift again. She dragged her fingers up and down her thigh, stopping when she reached the waistband of her jeans. Her fingers trailed along the top of her jeans, her stomach exposed to Sansa’s touch. After a moment, when she could feel Margaery’s breath quicken, she stopped at the button of her jeans.

“Is this okay?” she asked. Again, Margaery nodded her ascent. Sansa opened the button, slid the zipper down, the sound of the metal separating loud in the quiet of her apartment. She let her fingers drift to the waistband of her panties, just inside her jeans. When Margaery’s breath hitched, she slipped her hand past them to the heat within.

Margaery sighed audibly when Sansa’s fingers reach the wetness between her legs. Sansa tried to hold back her groan, but couldn’t completely. Margaery bucked against her hand as the sound met her ear, and Sansa’s finger pressed at Margaery’s entrance.

The angle was odd and Margaery’s jeans were tight, but Sansa didn’t want to move, didn’t want to risk ruining the moment. She reached and slipped her fingertip into Margaery’s hot cunt. A moan slipped from Margaery’s lips and she bucked into Sansa’s hand again. Sansa slipped back up to her clit, making wide languid circles, crisscrossing, and swirling around the stiff bud. Margaery was moaning freely, hips grinding into Sansa’s hand, seeking more friction.

Sansa’s forearm was beginning to ache, but she refused to let up, pressing just a little harder. Margaery gasp, bucking into her harder. Sansa pressed another kiss behind her ear. She licked a strip along the shell of her ear before pulling it gently between her teeth.

“Come for me, Margaery,” she breathed hot and desperate against her.

A groan shook Margaery’s chest, and with one more hard press of Sansa’s fingers, Margaery was coming in her hand. Sansa didn’t stop until Margaery’s hissed and pulled her hips back from her touch.

Sansa slipped her hand from Margaery’s pants, taking her own fingers in her mouth. She loved the way Margaery tasted. She couldn’t let it go to waste.

After a few moments, Margaery tried to turn in her arms, but Sansa held her tight again. “No, Marge, it’s okay. You don’t have to.”

Sansa knew Margaery was having a hard time when she didn’t try to protest, simply cuddling closer to Sansa, pressing as close as she could on the couch.

They drifted off for a few moments, but their stiffening necks didn’t let them rest for long. Margaery eventually disentangled herself from Sansa. She buttoned her pants and stood. Before Sansa could sit up, though, Margaery was kneeling beside the couch, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you,” she said gently. “For everything.”

Sansa took her hand, squeezed it gently. “Of course, Margaery. I lo-” She cut herself off. “I’m always here for you.”

Margaery pressed another kiss to her forehead. “I know, love. I know.” She left without another word, and Sansa felt too heavy with sadness and some other emotion she couldn’t place to move to bed. She fell asleep in her clothes, Margaery’s scent still on her fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope your hearts are still intact. Thanks for reading, loves! Comments and kudos are everything!! Tell me one thing you’d like to see in the future for Marge and Sansa!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every morning, when thoughts of Margaery began to creep into her mind Sansa told herself, “She is not yours.” It quickly became like a mantra, repeated over and over and over, reminding her that Margaery was not hers to care for, she was not hers to want more with, she was not hers to love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been a minute, have 4.5k of mostly smut.

It all made sense to Sansa. Of course it did. Margaery couldn’t have clients trying to woo her, to get her to fall for them. She had a job to do. Sansa knew better than to stand between a determined woman and her job.

It would just take reminding. She would have to remind herself every day. It was all just an act. Anything Margaery seemed to feel for her, it was all a ruse to keep Sansa coming back. But it wasn’t real. There were no real feelings behind what they were doing. There never would be. Any seeds that could have grown needed to be uprooted and thrown out.

So Sansa worked to do just that. Every morning, when thoughts of Margaery began to creep into her mind she told herself, “She is not yours.” It quickly became like a mantra, repeated over and over and over, reminding her that Margaery was not hers to care for, she was not hers to want more with, she was not hers to love.

It was hard, at first. Constantly reminding herself she could not have what she wanted most. But in a way, it began to be comforting. She owed Margaery nothing except her money. Margaery owed her nothing but time. There was no relationship outside their arrangement, no other dynamics to be aware of. They came together for physical release. That was all.

When Arya stopped her Monday morning to make sure Sansa was alright after their awkward call on Saturday evening, she brushed it off. She refused to dwell on it anymore. (If she was honest with herself, it scared her how often her mantra ran through her head. She never realized how often she thought of Margaery. It startled her. Confused her. Made it that much harder to let go.)

In the evenings she stayed late at the office. Or brought work home with her. Or occasionally drank herself into forgetfulness. (Whether it was to forget Margaery or to forget she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Margaery, her sober self never could remember.) She pushed herself even harder in her workouts in the mornings, often up at 4:00 or 5:00 am running and lifting in the gym in the basement of her apartment building. 

At work, she was focused and efficient. Robb smiled at her quick responses and compelling arguments in meetings. Arya didn’t bring up the phone call again, but she did give Sansa a hard clap on the bag when she managed to get a case dismissed after only a couple of days at trial. She was back to her old self, they told her. And Sansa decided to let them think that. They didn’t need to know this hollow version of herself.

It was a type of dissociating, Sansa knew. She’d done this before. When life became too much, when she felt too many things too acutely. Her mind just slipped from her, just enough to let her be focused, if a little robotic. When she came home in the evenings, sometimes she could barely remember what she had done all day. But it was better than feeling all the feelings that were trying to make themselves known, she told herself.

When Margaery came back on Saturday, she was nearly her old self. It was almost like the last Saturday never happened. But when they came together, bodies pressed hot against each other, there was a timidness to both of them. Like they were holding back, scared the other was still too fragile to take the full force of their fucking.

When Margaery kissed down Sansa’s body, finally bringing her mouth to Sansa’s cunt, there were no gentle bites, no teeth, just the soft press of lips. Sansa shuddered beneath her, the softness Margaery showed her only making her crave the aggression more. But she was too scared to ask, too afraid of shattering what tenuous peace they had found for the night.

When Sansa came on Margaery’s tongue, she bit her hand, holding back the shout that threatened to fly loose, refusing to let Margaery’s name slip from her lips. When she later filled Margaery with her fingers, curling deep and filling her, she kissed Margaery’s jaw, felt her muscles clench to hold back the sounds she would have not hesitated to make only two weeks ago.

When Margaery crawled from her bed, slipping out quietly, Sansa poured herself a glass of whiskey, throwing it all back in one gulp. Sleep took her quickly, and for that she was thankful. She couldn’t bear to play back the night, the tears she had almost shed, the way Margaery had seemed so distant. The whiskey warmed her, pulled her to darkness, made her sleep dreamless.

______________

The next week was easier. She became used to shutting thoughts of Margaery down. She didn’t think about what Margaery would do for Christmas the next week, whether or not she would be alone. She didn’t wonder what gift Margaery might like. And when they came together again, she was eager for release. Margaery seemed to feel the same.

Sansa had become used to not kissing Margaery, instead latching onto her neck the moment she came through the door. As they stumbled into the apartment, clothes falling to the floor around them, Margaery led Sansa to the couch. She sat in the middle of the leather sofa and pulled Sansa into her lap. Sansa’s skirt was hiked up around her waist, both their shirts discarded in the few feet between the door and the couch. Margaery brought her mouth to Sansa’s neck, hands roaming up and down her bare back, nails dragging just enough to pull a moan from Sansa.

The stinging pain anchored Sansa in the moment. She answered by tangling her fingers in Margaery’s hair, pulling until she felt a hiss against her skin. Margaery sank her teeth into Sansa’s collarbone, sucking at the skin there. Sansa’s hips bucked hard against Margaery’s thigh, and Margaery’s hands moved down to her hips, dragging them against her jeans.

The friction sent a jolt through Sansa. It only took a few more drags of her cunt against Margaery’s thigh before she was pulling at her panties, trying to get them off. Sansa smirked against her neck, and Sansa couldn’t help moaning at the feeling. She loved that feeling, Margaery’s mouth pressed to her skin, that signature smirk pressed to her like a kiss.

When Margaery pushed her hips back, it took a moment for Sansa to realize she was trying to get Sansa to stand. When she did, Margaery leaned forward to nip at the waistband of her panties, then pulled them slowly down her legs, following them with her lips. Once they were off, she shimmied out of her jeans, then quickly pulled Sansa back into her lap.

Margaery spread her legs, letting Sansa press her cunt to Margaery’s now bare thigh. When her slick cunt met the firm muscle of Margaery’s thigh, she let out a low groan. Margaery’s hands were quickly back on her hips, helping her drag her wet pussy back and forth over her thigh. Soon she was smearing her wetness all over Margaery’s thigh. From the way Margaery’s mouth hung open, her breath heavy, and the hungry look in her eyes, Margaery didn’t seem to mind in the least.

Sansa tilted her hips forward, trying to rut her clit against Margaery. At the firm contact, lightning shot through her and she gasped. Each drag of her hips brought her closer and closer to the edge. All she wanted was to feel that fullness of Margaery’s fingers insider her, curling against her depths. But Margaery’s hands were firm on her hips, holding her in place, guiding her back and forth.

“Marge, please,” Sansa breathed. She leaned forward, arms on the back of the couch and head against Margaery’s shoulder. “Please, I need your fingers. Please, Marge.” But Margaery just turned to press a kiss behind her ear.

“I want you to come like this for me,” she growled against Sansa’s ear. “I want you to come against my thigh. I want you to rub yourself off on me. I can feel how wet this is making you. It’s all over me, Sansa. You’re so close, I can feel your clit pulsing against me. Come on, baby.”

Sansa had lost her words, mind fogged by the arousal thrumming through her veins. She’d never been with someone with a mouth like Margaery’s, who could nearly make her come just with just her words. Sansa thought she’d never been so wet in her life, the way it was smeared on Margaery, coating her leg.

“Come on, Sansa,” Margaery purred. “You’re so close. I want to feel your hot cunt throb against me. Watching you get yourself off… Gods Sansa it’s making me so wet. You’re such a good girl, so pretty chasing your pleasure. Come for me, Sansa.”

Margaery presses her lips to Sansa’s neck, nipping and sucking at her pulse. With another hard rock of her hips, Sansa felt the pressuring rising and rising until finally it burst. Sparks flew behind her eyes as she squeezed them shut hard, her cry caught in her throat, mouth hanging open. 

Margaery’s hands on her hips kept pulling her back and forth on her thigh, helping her ride out the pleasure. As she came down, Sansa collapsed into Margaery, forehead resting on her shoulder. She nuzzled her nose to Margaery’s neck, placing a quick kiss to her warm skin.

As she breathed in the smell of Margaery, warm and sweet, she repeated her mantra to herself again.

She is not yours.

She is not yours.

She is not yours.

But Sansa couldn’t stop the small voice in the back of her head tell her, “Right now, just maybe, she’s a little bit yours.”

Margaery giggled. “Sansa, you’re tickling me.”

Sansa blew out a breath against Margaery’s neck, and she giggled again. Sansa blew another breath and brought her hands to Margaery’s sides, skimming her finger tips up them. Margaery erupted in giggles and jerked her hands from Sansa’s hips to try to stop Sansa’s hands. She jostled Sansa on her lap in the process, and the two tumbled to the side, laying tangled on the couch.

Sansa didn’t relent. She kept her hands from Margaery, bringing them back to tickle her sides and pinch her ass, and Margaery’s giggles turned to shrieks of laughter. Margaery turned on her, switching up her plan to return Sansa’s tickling. In moments, they were more tangled then every, laughter filling the apartment as they wrestled and tickled.

Sansa came out on top, flipping Margaery, grabbing her wrists to hold her down. As she smiled down at Margaery, both out of breath and panting, there was nothing she wanted more than to lean down and press a kiss to her lips. That desire had been haunting her moments with Margaery more often than not lately. Instead, she let go of Margaery with one hand and slipped it between Margaery’s legs, shoving her panties to the side to trail her finger through the wetness she found there.

Margaery moaned and pressed her hips up into Sansa. Sansa decided to take what she could get from Margaery. She might not be hers, but these moments were hers. And she would take advantage of every moment she could get.  
______________

It was the Saturday after Christmas. Sansa was lying in bed naked, Margaery pressed to her side with her arm thrown over Sansa’s stomach, head resting on her shoulder. Sansa hadn’t bought Margaery anything. She had debated it. Even called Arya. Arya of course told her that was a ridiculous idea.

“Seriously, Sans? You’re off your rocker. You can’t buy your hooker a Christmas present! That’s like… totally unacceptable. Next she’s going to think you want to go steady with her or some shit. No, don’t do anything. Except maybe fuck her real good after Christmas. That’s the best present you could get anyone really, am I right?”

Sansa felt like the evening had been much less awkward than their previous evenings together. Less stiff. Less tiptoeing around each other. Margaery brought her cock again. She hadn’t done that in a while.

A shiver ran through Sansa as she remembered how good it felt to have Margaery fill her. She hadn’t liked penis-in-vagina sex with Joffrey, and when Margaery had brought the strap out the first time, she had been sure she wouldn’t like it with Margaery either. But Margaery was so good, so much better than Joffrey. She could read Sansa and what she wanted. She was so gentle, yet firm and fast and hard when Sansa needed her to be.

Sansa wondered what it would be like to be in Margaery’s position. To be the one wearing the strap. She closed her eyes and imagined Margaery spread out under her, legs spread, moaning, filled, thoroughly fucked. Gods. She was getting wet again thinking about it. Her fingers twitched where they rested on Margaery’s shoulder.

“Cold, are you?” Margaery asked, lips against her shoulder.

“No, why?”

“Well,” Margaery mumbled against her skin. “Your shiver a moment ago, and now your pretty little nipples are hard again. Do you need a blanket?” Sansa could tell from the way she could feel the smirk on Margaery’s mouth that Margaery knew she wasn’t cold.

“No, it’s- it’s nothing.” Sansa swallowed hard. She knew Margaery needed to leave soon, so she didn’t think it wise to get herself all worked up again.

“What were you thinking about, little bird?” Margaery clearly wasn’t going to let it go.

“It was- it was nothing, Marge.” But her breathing was heavy, and she knew Margaery didn’t believe her lie.

Margaery propped herself up on her elbow so she could look at Sansa. Sansa met her gaze and tried to keep her breathing steady. “Were you thinking about my cock?” Margaery purred.

Sansa nodded. Technically, yes. Just maybe not the way Margaery thought she was.

“You like it don’t you? The way I fill you up. It makes you wet, doesn’t it? I bet if I reached between your legs right now you’d be soaked.”

Sansa let out a shaky breath. “I want to try it.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Hm? What was that, love?” Of course Margaery didn’t hear her. She’d have to say it again. Gods, Sansa wished she hadn’t said it.

“I want-” Her voice cracked. “I want to try it. The strap. On you.”

Margaery raised her eyebrows, and a smirk creeped onto her face. “Oh, do you now?”

Sansa nodded. “But I don’t… I’ve never… I don’t know what to do.” Her voice was shaky. She wanted it so badly, doubted that she’d ever wanted anything like she wanted to have Margaery under her, full of her. Another shiver ran through her when she saw the way Margaery was looking at her.

Margaery climbed on top of Sansa, legs straddling her stomach. She leaned down on her elbows, face only inches from Sansa’s. Sansa could feel her breath against her lips. “Tell me what you want, Sans.”

Sansa stuttered. “I- I want… I want to have you under me.” She took a deep breath, nervous energy thrumming through her veins. “I want you under me, and I want to watch- I want to watch that strap disappearing inside of you. I want to fill you up, and I want to hear your moans, and I want to watch you come on my strap. Please, Margaery, please.”

Margaery looked, just for a moment, like she wanted to kiss Sansa. But Sansa brushed it off as an imagining of her lust-addled brain.

“I think I can make that happen,” Margaery murmured, pressing a kiss to Sansa’s neck. “But you have to make me a deal. If you want to fuck me, I want you to wear the nipple clamps while you do it.”

Sansa groaned loudly. She had a love/hate relationship with the nipple clamps. They hurt. There was no way around that. They really hurt. But the constant pressure felt glorious at the same time. The way Margaery tugged at the chain between them, how her clit pulsed when she did. Sansa could feel her nipples harden at the thought.

She nodded. “Okay, fine. I’ll wear them. Just- please not as tight as last time. I don’t know if I can concentrate if they’re that tight.” Last time… last time they had used the clamps, Margaery had tied her hands behind her back, clamped her nipples, and bent her over the back of the couch while she took her from behind. It had been so much at once that Sansa had lost all ability to focus, lost to her pleasure. She didn’t want that. She wanted to be able to concentrate on making Margaery feel good.

Margaery leaned down to kiss her nipples, an affirmation that she would be gentler this time.

It only took a few moments for Margaery to find the clamps in her bag and gather the harness from where she had dropped it on the floor.

“I’m just going to go wash this real quick,” she said, pointing the dildo at Sansa. “I’ll be back in a second. You just stay there.”

Sansa had to lay back and count down from ten to keep from touching herself. She could feel her arousal gathering between her thighs, and she wanted desperately to get some relief. But she wanted to fuck Margaery more. So she followed her instructions and waited.

When Margaery came back, she helped Sansa into the harness, adjusting it to fit her hips. Then she popped the base of the dildo into the O-ring. She gave Sansa a moment to just look at it, just adjusted to the feeling. Then Margaery wrapped her hand around it, pressing it into Sansa. Sansa moaned, surprised by the sensation of the pressure against her clit.

“You ready for the clamps?” Margaery asked, reaching out to tweak Sansa’s nipple. Sansa nodded hesitantly. Margaery stepped close to her, not paying attention to the way the strap pressed against her thigh.

“You know you don’t have to say yes if you really don’t want to, Sans.” Margaery brushed Sansa’s hair back from her neck, letting her hand rest on the back of her neck. “You can say no, love.”

Sansa nodded again. “I know. I want to.” Sansa kissed Margaery’s forehead. “I want to for you,” she whispered.

Margaery just smiled at her when Sansa leaned back, a real smile. A soft smile. The kind that Sansa secretly cherished.

A hard pinch on her left nipple brought her attention back. Sansa whimpered at the touch, knowing what was coming. Margaery’s fingers brought Sansa’s nipple to a hard peak, and without warning, she attached the rubber end of the clamp. Sansa hissed through her teeth, breathed out through her nose. Margaery rubbed her thumb gently over her cheek.

“Alright, little bird?” she asked sweetly. When Sansa nodded, she began the same treatment on the other nipple. When both were firmly attached, Margaery stepped back to admire her.

“Fucking gods, Sansa… you look like a fucking wet dream.” Her eyes darted back and forth from Sansa’s flushed face to her tits and clamped nipples and the strap jutting from her hips. “I think we need to slick this up a little bit, don’t you think?”

Sansa nodded, assuming Margaery would go to retrieve the lube. She gasped when Margaery knelt in front of her, taking the dildo in her hand, pressing her tongue to the tip. She moaned when Margaery pressed the base to her clit and took the head of the cock in her mouth. There was little sensation for Sansa besides the gentle pressure against her cunt. But the visual…. That was enough to make Sansa weak in the knees.

Margaery let the head pop free of her mouth, then licked up one side of the cock and down the other. She brought the head back to her mouth, taking the head, then another inch, then another into her mouth. Sansa’s fingers were tangled in Margaery’s hair before she realized what she was doing. She didn’t push or pull, just rested her hand on Margaery’s head, and watched. She watched with hungry. Her cunt clenched on nothing, and her breath hitched in her chest. She couldn’t take it any longer.

With a firm tug of Margaery’s hair, she urged Margaery to her feet, buried her face in Margaery’s neck, and slipped her fingers between Margaery’s legs. Gods, she was so wet.

“Go lie on the bed,” she whispered in Margaery’s ear. Margaery did, and Sansa followed close behind, climbing up to kneel between her legs. She leaned forward, placing a hand on either side of Margaery’s head. That desire to kiss her punched Sansa in the gut, and she had to look away. She looked down their bodies instead, reaching with one hand for the base of the strap. She dragged the tip from the bottom of Margaery’s vulva to the top. When she passed over Margaery’s clit, her hips bucked. Sansa moved the head back down to her entrance, swirling it in the arousal that was waiting for her.

With a smooth press of her hips, she slipped inside. A sigh escaped Margaery, and Sansa looked up to see that her eyes had shut, and she had a smile on her face.

“Gods, Sans that feels good.” Sansa pressed her hips closer, driving the cock deeper, bringing her hand back down beside Margaery. The groan that fell from Margaery’s lips as Sansa pressed in until she was fully sheathed in Margaery went straight to Sansa’s clit.

“Fuck!” Margaery groaned. “Fuck, I’m so full, Sans.” Margaery’s head was thrown back, and Sansa couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to her pulse. Sansa pulled her hips back, and gently rocked forward again. The movement worked muscles Sansa had never used in bed before, but she was very grateful for her rather intense morning workouts. She felt Margaery’s hand on her biceps, fingers squeezing her flexing muscles.

“Gods, Sansa, you’re so sexy,” Margaery groaned as Sansa set a steady pace thrusting into her. “I love the way you fill me up, gods you make me feel so good. Harder, baby, please. Fuck me harder.”

Sansa moaned. Between the pressure on her clit and Margaery’s dirty talk, she thought she might just be able to come from fucking her. She picked up her speed, the sound of their skin slapping together filling the room. Sansa looked down between their bodies to Margaery’s cunt, where the cock slipped in and out of her body. It made her cunt throb, the way the cock split her open. Each thrust forced a gasp from Margaery. Sansa switched from quick, shallow thrusts to hard, deep ones. Margaery’s gasps turned to groans, her fingers grasping at Sansa’s back, scratching down her sides.

“Ohhhh fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck, Sans- OH!” On a particularly hard thrust, Sansa pressed her hips hard against Margaery, grinding the base of the cock against Margaery’s clit. Margaery’s legs wrapped around her, holding her close. Sansa pulled back just a little, thrust hard again, letting Margaery chase the friction against her clit.

“Sansa, will you- Oh! Will you let me get- fuck!- on top?” Margaery could barely get out a sentence with the way Sansa was fucking her, hard, and deep, and thorough.

Sansa looked up to meet her eyes. Margaery looked ravished, hair spread out under her, face blushing red, chest heaving with every breath. Sansa nodded. Without warning, Margaery pulled Sansa flush against her and rolled, not letting the cock slip out of her cunt.

Margaery pushed off Sansa’s shoulders to sit up fully, hips flush against Sansa, the strap buried fully inside her. She set a steady pace with her hips, more grinding against Sansa than fully thrusting. She pressed her hands to Sansa’s abs to balance herself. Sansa pushed up on her elbows to watch. She was entranced. Margaery’s breasts swayed with every move, her mouth open and moans falling from her lips. She had never seen anything so beautiful, so sexy, so breathtaking in her entire life. And in that moment she swore she never would again.

When Margaery came, it took them both by surprise. Sansa slipped her hand between them, pressing her thumb to Margaery’s clit, and then she was coming. Her head thrown back, Sansa sat up fully, wrapping one arm around Margaery to hold her steady while her other hand kept pressing Margaery’s clit. As Margaery ground her hips to Sansa’s in her orgasm, she pressed the base of the dildo hard to Sansa’s clit, and with a gasp, Sansa came. Her cunt pulsed, each movement of Margaery’s hips prolonging her pleasure.

After a moment, when they came down, their breathing still heavy, Margaery wrapped her arms around Sansa’s neck. She pressed her face to Sansa’s shoulder as Sansa scooted them back on the bed so she could lean against the headboard. Margaery sighed as the strap still inside her moved. She reached down to Sansa’s tits, tugging at the chain hanging from the clamps. Margaery looked at her with a question in her eyes. Sansa nodded, and Margaery loosed them both at the same time. A pulse of pain and pleasure rocketed through her as the blood rushed back to her tender nipples. She sighed deeply, letting the sensation wash over her.

“Margaery, I-” Sansa cleared her throat. “You… Wow.”

“Same, babe,” Sansa muttered against her neck. “Same.”

“That was… good? For you?” Sansa was hesitant, thankful that Margaery’s face was pressed into her neck and she couldn’t ready the anxiousness on her face.

“Gods, Sansa, that was… that was really good. Better than most of the men who fuck me. And some of the women, too. And I’ve been doing this for a while.”

Sansa knew it was all meant as a joke, an encouragement even. But the mention of others Margaery had been with, would be with again, while Sansa was still buried inside her…. It felt a sharp, metallic taste of jealousy on her tongue.

“Well, I’m glad,” she managed, once again thankful Margaery couldn’t see her face at the moment. Margaery leaned back and swung one leg over Sansa, letting the dildo slip out of her. She lay down next to Sansa, and Sansa scooted down to lay next to her. She struggled with the harness straps, but managed to get it off and toss it off the bed without too much effort.

She rolled onto her side, watching Margaery next to her. Her eyes were closed, one arm thrown over her eyes and the other resting on her stomach. Her breathing had leveled out, but the flush of arousal was still on her cheeks and her chest. She looked so peaceful, so relaxed. A small smile played at her lips, and Sanas swore she looked angelic. A sensation she had been trying to stamp down bubbled up in her chest. She refused to give it a name, instead rolling over to look up at the ceiling. She repeated her mantra again.

She is not yours.

She is not yours.

She is not yours.

But the feeling in the pit of her stomach did not leave. Not when Margaery climbed out of her bed to take a shower, or when Margaery walked out the front door, or when the next morning came. It stayed, fluttering in her gut whenever Margaery’s name crossed her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot is about to jump forward! Thank you all for hanging in there with me! I’m gonna estimate we’ve got maybe 4-5 chapters left? Depending on how long they end up being. We’ll see. Anyway! Drop a comment! Leave kudos! I’ll love you forever! Thanks, butches and bitches!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa goes on a date. It doesn’t go well.

“Arya, would you please just let it go?” Sansa would get up and leave if she wasn’t waiting for her lunch. When she had agreed to take her lunch break with Arya, she wasn’t expecting to spend the whole time listening to Arya go on and on about how Sansa needs to go on a real date. New Years had just passed and Arya seemed convinced it was her job to make Sansa go on some “New Year, New You” adventure.

“Why won’t you at least give it a chance, Sansa? I know you’re getting laid, but seriously, you need to find like, a girlfriend.” Arya sipped her cappuccino. “Come on, sis. One date.”

Sansa sighed. Just then, the waitress came over with their sandwiches. “Fine,” Sansa said around a mouthful of turkey and avocado club. “Whatever. One date. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Perfect. I already checked your calendar and saw that you were free on Thursday night, so she’s going to come pick you up at 7.” Arya stuffed a huge bite of her buffalo chicken wrap into her mouth.

Sansa choked on her food, coughing and gulping down water to clear her throat.

“What the fuck Arya!” She shout-whispered, trying her best not to draw too much attention to their table. “You already set one up? Seriously?”

“What? I knew I could get you to agree, so why wait? She’s really cute, I’m sure her social calendar fills up quickly. I wanted to make sure you get to meet her.” Arya tried to play it off casually, but she was grinning from ear to ear.

“Fuck, Arya! Why would you do that?”

“So you can’t back out. She’s expecting you tomorrow night, so you can’t bail on her. How rude would that be?” Of course Arya knew to appeal to Sansa’s sense of morality. Sansa couldn’t stand this innocent girl up, regardless of Arya’s stupidity. Gods, she was not looking forward to it, though.

Sansa groaned. “What’s her name?”

“Dany,” Arya said smugly. “She’s… unique. Real cute, though. Hell, if I weren’t straight I’d ask her out.”

“Oh, if you weren’t straight?” Sansa laughed. “Not ‘if I weren’t seeing someone else?’ What would Gendry say.”

“Non-monogamy exists, Sans. Look it up.”

______________

It wasn’t that Sansa was having the worst date ever. It was just that Dany talked about herself a lot. Her travels, her three huge maine coon cats, her dead husband. She was cute, Arya was right. But her violet eyes and silver hair… Sansa could not believe they were real. Those had to be contacts. And her hair had to be dyed.

Eventually Dany did ask questions, try to learn more about Sansa. But they were all small talk. Inconsequential things. What she liked about her neighborhood. How unseasonably warm it was for January. What she had done for New Years. If she’d made any resolutions.

“Tell me about your family,” Dany said when their food was brought out. “I know Arya, but she hasn’t told me much.”

“Well, I have an older brother, Robb, who works with Arya and I. A half brother, Jon. He’s off in Antarctica with the army or something like that. Arya, of course. And then my two younger brothers, Bran and Rickon. They still live at home with my mom.” Sansa smiled thinking about home.

“What about your dad?” Dany asked, an innocent smile plastered across her face.

Sansa’s smile dropped and she sighed. She hadn’t had to say it out loud to someone in a long time. “He’s dead. Cancer.”

Dany’s face fell, and she reached her hand out and placed it on top of Sansa’s. “Oh my gods, I am so sorry. I had no idea.”

Of course Arya wouldn’t have mentioned it. Why would she? It shouldn’t feel so fresh, but it was. 

“It’s alright. It was a few years ago.” Sansa looked down at where Dany’s hand hadn’t moved from hers. It felt nice. She was warm. Her thumb rubbed gently over Sansa’s. She looked up to meet Dany’s gaze, offered her a small smile.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a couple walk in the door, waiting to be seated. It was Margaery. She gasped, Margaery’s eyes meeting hers across the tables between them. She smiled at Sansa, then her eyes flicked down to Dany’s hand on Sansa’s. Sansa had to force herself not to jerk it away.

The man Margaery was with (she was with a man…) was handsome. Tall, dark hair, generic face, a suit that looked expensive. Margaery didn’t break eye contact. Sansa looked away, though, when she remembered that she was on a date. With someone else. Not Margaery. Someone who was nothing like Margaery. All sweetness and fake hair, innocence and bright eyes. Nothing like Margaery, who made her laugh, teased her, always giving her that smirk.

It wasn’t Dany’s fault the date went downhill from there. But seeing Margaery soured her mood. She had no right to feel jealous. She knew that.

She is not mine.

She is not mine.

She is not mine.

But no matter how many times Sansa said it to herself, she couldn’t shake that pit-of-her-stomach feeling. She excused herself to the bathroom only a few moments later, telling Dany she wasn’t feeling well.

Sansa jumped when she walked into the bathroom and found Margaery washing her hands at the sink. She froze as Margaery looked up at her. She smirked at Sansa as she dried her hands.

“Who’s the girl?” she asked. Sansa just blinked at her. Her head was spinning, and she really was beginning to feel ill. She was supposed to be having a Margaery-free night. That was what she told herself before Dany came to pick her up. She was supposed to give it a fair shake, to see if maybe Arya was right and she did need to go on a date.

But from the moment she saw Dany, she compared her to Margaery. When she spoke, Sansa could not stop thinking about how much she missed her dates with Margaery. How she’d rather be in bed with Margaery than with Dany. Not even having sex. Even the quiet moments of rest before Margaery left were better than the whole evening with Dany had been.

Arya had been right. She needed to go on dates. She needed a girlfriend. But no one else would ever be enough.

“Arya,” Sansa stammered when she realized Margaery was waiting for an answer. “She’s not Arya. Arya set up the date. Dany. Her name’s Dany.”

“Hm.” Margaery crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you going home with her?”

Sansa quirked her head to the side, a question on her face. “No?”

“Hm.” Margaery stepped closer to her. She pressed a kiss to Sansa’s check as she stepped past. “I’ll see you Saturday,” she whispered in her ear.

Sansa was frozen, her cheek still hot from Margaery’s kiss.

“Oh, Sansa.” Margaery spun back around, and Sansa nearly jumped. “Do you want me to bring my cock again?”

Sansa blushed all the way to her forehead, her voice caught in her throat. Without waiting for an answer, Margaery winked at her and marched back out to her date.

Sansa stood there, stunned, for a long moment. Heat filled her body. It was partially the blush on her cheeks, partially her arousal at the thought of Margaery’s cock, and part anger that Margaery would act like that.

Why would she do that? Sansa thought to herself. It can’t be because… She’s not jealous, is she?

Sansa shook her head and walked out of the bathroom. She didn’t even use the toilet. When Dany saw her walking back, a look of concern crossed her face.

“Are you alright, Sansa?” she asked.

“I’m really not feeling well,” Sansa replied. And it was the truth. She thought she might throw up from the anxiety that was beginning to creep up her spine. “I’m so sorry, but can you take me home?”

______________

[Dany texted.]

Sansa wasn’t at all surprised to hear from Arya only an hour after Dany dropped her off at her apartment.

[She said it didn’t go well. Are you okay?]

Sansa laughed out loud, but she didn’t text Arya back. She wanted to go to sleep and not think any more about what happened. She pour herself a glass of whiskey and downed it all. It was becoming a coping mechanism she wasn’t proud of, but it helped her sleep. That was all she could bring herself to care about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one, because I think the next one will be pretty long. Let the angst begin! This is the beginning of the end folks. I hope your little hearts are ready for it!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe a little clubbing will get Sansa’s mind off the bed date? Maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the brief hiatus. Have some angst and smut as an apology!

Sansa was coming to understand why Arya won so often in the courtroom. She was incredibly persuasive, yes. But she was also incredibly intimidating. Her stare could convince a jury member member she was right, and it could also convince Sansa that she really did want to go out clubbing with her on Friday night. Arya’s stare could also convince Sansa to let Arya pick out her outfit.

That was how Sansa ended up in the middle of the dancefloor at one of the busiest queer clubs in the city. Three shots and two beers deep, she had finally loosened up to move along with the music. She was dancing with Arya, long ago given up on the possibility of conversation over the thumping bass.

They were out for Sansa. To try to wipe away the memory of the bad date and of Margaery’s taunting words. Yes, they had turned her on. And yes, she was definitely looking forward to seeing Margaery. But she needed to forget the way her stomach had turned when she saw Margaery with someone else, and the way her heart had fluttered in her chest when Margaery had shown that she was clearly jealous.

Sansa had spent the last 24 hours trying to figure out what to do with that knowledge. She had come up with nothing. Maybe Margaery was playing her, hoping to get her riled up for gods knew what reason. That idea annoyed Sansa to no end. Maybe Margaery really had been jealous. That idea scared Sansa. If Margaery was really jealous of her date, that meant that maybe she had other feelings for Sansa. Feelings for her as more than a client. And that made it even harder to control her own feelings. (As if she really had any control over them anyway.)

So that’s why when Sansa felt a pair of hands on her hips, body heat behind her, she let it happen. Arya noticed the stranger, too, and waggled her eyebrows at Sansa. This had really been Arya’s plan, Sansa was sure. But she was too tipsy to care. She gave in.

She left hair tickle her neck. The hands at her hips were delicate, with painted nails and gold bangles around one wrist. When she felt the strangers hips against ass, she didn’t even think before leaning back into the touch. The swayed to the music, and Sansa couldn’t stop herself from reaching back with one hand to touch the woman’s neck, run her fingers through her hair. Sansa’s eyes had drifted closed, her focus narrowed moving along to the music and pressing herself to the body behind her.

When she felt lips against her neck, she gasped. Her fingers tightened in the stranger’s hair, and her eyes shot open. As soon opened her eyes, though, she immediately regretted it.

There, across the sea of bodies, her eyes locked with Margaery. Margaery, who was pressed against some woman, much like Sansa was. The woman was facing Margaery, couldn’t see Sansa. Her hands were all over Margaery, grabbing at her hips, groping her breasts, sliding down her thighs.

Sansa’s grip in the stranger’s hair tightened when she watched Margaery pull the other woman’s mouth to her own. The gasp against Sansa’s neck couldn’t pull her attention away from the other pair, Margaery kissing the woman passionately, even while maintaining eye contact with Sansa.

It was a taunt. Sansa knew it right away. Anger seethed in her, her blood boiling with a rage she rarely felt. Margaery was making sure Sansa saw her giving someone else the one thing that she wouldn’t give Sansa. She was trying to make her jealous.

Sansa couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to get out. She pulled away from the stranger behind her, turning to face her for the first time. She was gorgeous, but blond hair to her shoulders and smoldering brown eyes. She smiled at Sansa seductively, and for a moment Sansa almost wanted to stay with her, wanted to ask her to take Sansa home. But when she closed her eyes to take a deep breath, all she could see was Margaery’s face, kissing another woman.

“I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well,” she half-shouted into the woman’s ear. “I’m going to go home.”

“Does it have anything to do with your ex who’s been staring you down for the past five minutes?” the woman half-shouted back.

Sansa blushed immediately. “She’s not my ex,” she said. She thought about explaining, but there was no way she was getting into it with a stranger in a club. “Sorry. I’m just- I’ve gotta go.”

Without another word, she pushed her way through the crowd to the bar. She sighed in relief when she saw Arya getting another round of drinks.

“Arya, we need to go,” she said, taking the drinks from her hands and putting them back on the bar.

“Seriously, Sans?! We just got here!” Arya tried to pick the drinks back up, but Sansa grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Please, Arya, I want to go.”

“What, did the hooker show up?”

When Sansa looked down at her shoes instead of answering, Arya groaned. “Ugh, fine! I’ll call an Uber. But you really need to talk to her, because this is getting annoying.”

“Mind your own business, Arya,” Sansa snapped. “Just get me home. Please.”

_______________

Sansa cried herself to sleep. She told herself it was because she was drunk and tired, not because Margaery had hurt her so much. She told herself she’d feel better in the morning when she was sober. That everything would feel better then.

But when she woke up, she was left with a headache and heartache.

She stayed in bed most of the day. She was drinking again by 3pm, just after she finally showered. She was careful not to get drunk. (She told herself it was because she didn’t want another hangover, not because she was scared Margaery would call off their evening if she found her drunk.) She moped, watching old Law & Order reruns until she felt numb.

But then, around 5:30 she looked at the clock. Margaery would be over soon. Margaery. Margaery who kissed someone else last night. Margaery who had another woman’s hands all over her. Margaery who clearly had different standards for Sansa than she had for her other clients. Margaery. The woman she could barely deny her feelings for anymore.

The anger from the night before started to fill her again. Part of her wanted Margaery to feel what she had felt. The embarrassment, the jealousy, the anger. And other part of her (maybe a bigger part) wanted Margaery to remember what Sansa could give her. The way Sansa could make her feel. She wanted Margaery to never think of someone else again.

A plan started to formulate in her mind, a plan that could give her both the things she wanted. Through the anger sitting in her gut, she knew that she needed to check in with Margaery first. As much as she wanted to take her the moment she walked in the door, she owed it to her to talk to her. Margaery had never just bombarded her with something new without talking first. She owed Margaery that at least.

Something else was beginning to mix with the anger in her gut. Something warm.

Arousal.

Sansa could feel the warmth between her legs growing. She didn’t want to. She wanted to stay angry. She wanted to hang on to that fire. But Saturday afternoons, Margaery’s visit, it had a Pavlovian effect on her cunt. Her body was always ready to be ravished by 6pm.

But this time it was Sansa who would be doing the ravishing, and she had to hold it together.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, and her clit twitched in response.

When she opened the door, neither Sansa or Margaery said a word. They stared at each other for a long moment. Sansa’s gaze was hard, clearly angry. She had been expecting to see Margaery’s arrogant smirk on her face, taunting Sansa further. But Margaery did not even smile. She stared back up at Sansa with… remorse? Could it be?

Whatever it was, whatever Margaery was feeling made her tear her gaze away from Sansa’s and look down at the floor. “Can I come in?” she asked timidly. Sansa had never heard her sound so nervous before.

Sansa stepped aside without a word, letting Margaery past her. A measure of her anger subsided seeing Margaery so upset. Sansa hoped that it was remorse over the way she had treated her, but she couldn’t be sure.

Margaery sat her bag down on the floor and took a seat on the couch. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and head in her hands.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve never acted so unprofessionally in my life.” She wouldn’t meet Sansa’s eyes, looking down between her feet. “I… I’m incredibly embarrassed. I don’t know what got into me.”

Sansa started to say something, though she wasn’t sure what, but Margaery cut her off, voice growing stronger as she spoke. “That’s a lie, I do know. I was jealous. I’ve never seen one of my clients out with someone else and I- I don’t know. It shook me up. More than I would have thought it would.”

Sansa was taken aback. She hadn’t expected a confession like that. 

Margaery finally looked up at her. “I don’t know… I don’t know if you still want me. But. I’m here. I’m sorry. You can do what you want with me.”

Sansa felt like it should be inappropriate for those words to affect her the way they did. To send a bolt of lightening between her thighs. To make her blood race faster. To make her heart pound against her ribs.

But it did.

She moved to stand in front of Margaery. “I can think of a couple of things I’d like to do to you.” She expected her voice to sound shaky, hesitant. But even to her own ears it sounded strong. Dominant. Sansa swore she saw a blush creep up Margaery’s neck.

Sansa knelt down in front of Margaery, taking her hands in her own. “But only if you want to,” she murmured. “I don’t want you to give me something just because you feel bad about what you did. Do you understand?”

Margaery nodded. Her eyes were wide, and Sansa thought she could almost see her pulse beating at that sweet spot at her neck. Before she realized what she was doing, she was leaning into Margaery, pressing a kiss against that pulse. Margaery sighed and squeezed Sansa’s hands tight.

“I want to take you over my lap,” Sansa whispered, her lips pressed to Margaery’s neck, “and I want to spank you. Then I want to bend you over the couch, and I want to fuck you. Hard.”

With each word she spoke, Sansa felt Margaery’s pulse stutter and speed up. Margaery’s fingernails were digging into Sansa’s hands, and her breathing was ragged. When Sansa’s leaned back to look at Margaery’s face, the look of hunger she found there surprised her.

Sansa let herself smirk. She liked the way she affected Margaery. “Would that be okay with you?”

Sansa wasn’t even finished before Margaery was breathing a “yes” and nodding her head.

Sansa stood, pulling Margaery’s hand to guide her to stand as well. “Is your safeword still ‘roses’?” Sansa asked.

Margaery nodded.

“Okay. Good.” Impulsively, Sansa pulled Margaery into a hug. “I want you to know, it was excruciating to watch you kiss someone else last night,” she whispered in Margaery’s ear. “Each time my hand hits your ass, I want you to remember how much it hurt me to watch someone else have what I cannot have.”

Later, Sansa would wonder if she shouldn’t have showed her cards like that. Let Margaery knew exactly how much she affected Sansa. But in the moment, she didn’t care. She wanted Margaery to know.

Sansa pulled back without looking in Margaery’s eyes and sat down on the couch. “Strip,” she told Margaery. Her clothes came off faster than Sansa had seen them come off before. In moments, she was patting her lap for Margaery to lean over her legs. Sansa was still clothed, but she could feel the warmth of Margaery’s skin through her jeans. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath through her nose. Seeing Margaery like that, bent over her lap, it was a power trip she wasn’t expecting.

“Count to ten for me?” Sansa’s voice trembled, betraying her own arousal.

“Yes,” Margaery breathed.

The sound of the first smack landing on Margaery’s ass filled the apartment. It stung Sansa’s hand, and she heard Margaery’s breath hiss through her teeth, though she didn’t jump.

“One.” Margaery’s voice was steady. Sansa wanted to change that.

The second crack was louder than the first, but still Margaery didn’t flinch.

“Two.”

The next three came quick and sharp, low on Margaery’s ass, where her thighs met her ass.

“Three, four, five.” Margaery’s voice was shaking a little. Sansa grinned. It shouldn’t make her so happy, to feel Margaery starting to unravel. But it did. Gods, it did.

The next four came one right after the other, heavy, two in the center of each ass cheek. Margaery gasped, and counted them off. The final blow was hard striking right where her right ass check met her thigh. Margaery let out a yelp.

“Ten.” Her voice came out in a sob. Quickly Sansa, was rubbing gently at the red skin, her palm tingling.

“Was that alright?” she murmured, running her fingers through Margaery’s hair.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Margaery gasped. “Yes, Sansa. Please. Will you just fuck me, please?”

It was Sansa’s turn to gasp. She tightened her fingers in Margaery’s hair and turned her head to face her. “Is that what you want? You want me to bend you over and fuck you?”

“Gods, please Sansa, yes,” Margaery breathed. “The strap’s in my bag.”

“Get up and bend over the couch. Don’t touch yourself, or I’ll have to spank you again.” When Margaery sprang up, Sansa stood and slipped her jeans and underwear down her legs, kicking them off before she reached for Margaery’s bag.

The harness and dildo were on in just a few moments, and Sansa was standing behind Margaery, hands caressing her ass again. Margaery sighed and pressed back into Sansa. Sansa couldn’t refuse her any longer. She wanted to fill Margaery so all she could think of was her.

Sansa reached between Margaery’s legs, and she had to bite her lip to keep from gasping at the wetness she found there. Margaery was soaked. Her cunt was hot and wet as Sansa slipped a finger inside her. Margaery whined, and without warning, Sansa filled her with her cock.

A cry broke from Margaery’s lips as Sansa’ hips pressed against her tender ass.

“Is this okay?” Sansa wanted to be sure Margaery was okay before she was too far gone to ask.

“Yesssss,” Margaery breathed. “Just move, Sansa, please!”

And Sansa did. She fucked into her hard and fast, fingers gripping her hips tight. She pounded into her hard, letting the base of the dildo press against her clit with every thrust. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, pleasure coursing through her. Margaery’s moans filled the apartment, drowning out the wet sound of their coupling and the slapping of skin against skin.

Sansa surprised herself when she reached up with one hand and took hold of Margaery’s hair. She didn’t pull, just tangled her finger in her chestnut locks, and held her while she rode Margaery hard. It made Margaery moan even louder, thrust back into Sansa even harder, until she a scream left her lips and she came hard on Sansa’s cock.

The sight of Margaery coming undone under her and the way she pressed back into Sansa brought Sansa over the edge, too. She ground forward into Margaery, collapsing over her back as she pressed her clit against the base of the dildo, riding out her orgasm inside Margaery.

Soon the only sound left was the sound of their panting breaths.

“I really am sorry.” Margaery’s voice cut through the near silence.

“I know,” Sansa whispered in Margaery’s ear. “I am, too.”

Though for the life of her, she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa could top me. Gotta love toppy Sansa. Comments and kudos make me post faster!!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I care more about you than I should, Margaery,” Sansa whispered into her hair. Her voice was barely audible, and for a moment Margaery wondered if she had dreamed it. But the gentle kiss pressed to her shoulder somehow told her those words were real.

Margaery’s breath came heavy as she let herself collapse over the back of the couch. As Sansa slipped from inside her, she shuddered, her cunt clenching, trying to keep her close. When she had knocked on Sansa’s door, she never imagined in her wildest dreams that this was waiting for her on the other side.

A hand at her hip urged her to sit up, and she pulled herself up from her slumped over position. Her eyes were still closed when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and enveloped her in warmth and the smell of sweat and vanilla and Sansa. She collapsed into the embrace, so fully that Sansa had to lift her into her arms and carry her to the bedroom. She laid Margaery down gently, then climbed into the bed behind her, pulling her close, their bodies pressed together. The warmth at Margaery’s back and the gentle pulse between her legs was nearly enough to soothe her to sleep.

Until Sansa’s words pulled her abruptly to focused attention.

“I care more about you than I should, Margaery,” Sansa whispered into her hair. Her voice was barely audible, and for a moment Margaery wondered if she had dreamed it. But the gentle kiss pressed to her shoulder somehow told her those words were real.

Margaery told herself she shouldn’t feel relief at those words. At the proof that she wasn’t alone in this. But she couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered. In that moment she had a choice. Sansa deserved a response. She knew she didn’t have the strength to be honest. But after what she had already done to Sansa, she knew she couldn’t lie to her.

“I know,” was all she could bring herself to say.

Sansa’s arm around her waist tightened, and Margaery could feel the stutter in her breath that told her Sansa was crying. For a long time she just laid there, unmoving. Forced herself to sit with the pain she had caused. To let Sansa take what comfort she could from Margaery’s body.

“Is that why you hurt me?” Sansa’s voice was thick and wet from her tears. A finally audible sob broke from her lips like she couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Yes,” Margaery sighed into the still air. She was surprised to feel her own tears sliding down her cheeks, wetting the pillow beneath her head. She reached for Sansa’s hand with both of hers, Sansa’s arm still around her waist, tangled their fingers together. “I am so sorry,” she gasped, her breath catching in her chest as a sob escaped her.

They laid together for a long time, bodies pressed close, limbs tangled, unable to decipher whose sobs were whose. It was messy, Margaery thought. What was happening between them was messy. It was more than just that moment. The whole thing was messy. It was why she never did this with women. Not long term. She didn’t love the men who she slept with. She couldn’t. She never had loved men.

But women… women were another story. She hadn’t realized it until she had her first female client. She had immediately realized how dangerous it could be. She had never felt lust or desire or passion so strong until that first moment. She had been cautious ever since.

But Sansa had ripped down every one of her walls. And Margaery had been powerless to stop her. Sansa was beautiful. And she was incredible in bed. But she was also kind. Compassionate. She really cared about Margaery. Not that none of her clients before had cared, but with Sansa it was different. Sansa got this look in her eye when Margaery would talk that made Margaery feel like she was the center of the universe.

For a moment she imagined her life without Sansa. Without these Saturday nights together. Without feeling her body. Without seeing her smile. The sobs came even harder, and she couldn’t keep them quiet.

Margaery tried to curl in on herself, to make herself as small as the pain of losing Sansa made her feel. She expected Sansa to let her go, but she only followed, curling around her, refusing to let her go.

“Margaery, please don’t leave me,” Sansa sobbed into her hair, her voice ragged.

At her words, a fresh sob broke from Margaery, and suddenly she was turning in Sansa’s arms, pressing her face to Sansa’s neck, clutching at her shoulders as if she could possibly bring their bodies any closer.

“Never, never,” Margaery managed between sobs. She was heartbroken that she had let Sansa think for even a moment that she would walk away from her. Margaery’s heart clenched. “I thought you were going to leave me,” she gasped against Sansa’s shoulder.

Sansa’s grip on her tightened even further. “No, I couldn’t,” Sansa sobbed.

Margaery thought their tears would never dry. But eventually they did. The room quieted around them, but neither could bring themselves to loosen their arms around each other.

“Please stay,” Sansa whispered. Margarey had to blink back further tears. She knew she ought to leave. She ought to walk away. But she couldn’t. Not tonight. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to. But she would think about that in the morning.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured. She pressed a kiss to Sansa’s cheek. “Not tonight.”

Margaery knew that what had happened made things even messier. It would make things harder. She wasn’t sure they had made the right choice, confessing to each other like that. But exhaustion tugged too hard at her consciousness to resist. As she drifted off, she marveled at the way her body fit so perfectly against Sansa’s. She wished she could spend every night like that.

And if she mumbled those words against Sansa’s chest, too exhausted to know if she was thinking or speaking, she didn’t notice. And if Sansa heard them, she would never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another bit from Margaery’s perspective for you all. I know it’s short but it’s a lot of emotions, okay?! Please don’t hate me. Leave comments so I know you still love me!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween bitches! No tricks here, just a treat for you all. Well, we’ll see if you think it’s a treat after you read it....

“I wish I could spend every night like this.” Sansa felt the words as much as she heard them. Pressed against her shoulder, breathed onto her skin, lips barely moving as Margaery mumbled.

Sansa sighed, pressing her lips to Margaery’s hair. She was in too deep. This was dangerous. Her heart hurt for two different reasons. It still hurt from what Margaery had done to her. The way she had treated her, tried to goad her into reacting. It hurt. Margaery had wanted her to suffer, even if it was only a little bit. Because Margaery had feelings that she hadn’t wanted to deal with.

The other reason for the twinge in her chest as she listened to Margaery’s breath slow with sleep was that she agreed with Margaery’s half-asleep murmerings. She wanted this forever, too. She wanted to fall asleep every night in Margaery’s arms and wake up next to her. She wanted to fuck all night long and wake up to soft and dreamy sex in the morning. She wanted to make breakfast for Margaery, and sit on the couch marathoning Netflix Sunday afternoon. She wanted to kiss Margaery goodbye on her way out the door to work on Mondays, knowing Margaery would be there when she got back.

A single tear slipped down Sansa’s cheek, and she brushed it away with her shoulder, trying not to wake Margaery. Her mantra played over and over in her mind. Margaery did not belong to her. Margaery was not her girlfriend, her partner. She was not even sure if it was accurate to call Margaery her lover. Margaery had made it clear that their arrangement was only that. An exchange of services for money. Sansa couldn’t let herself begin to think of Margaery as hers. Never hers.

Sleep came for Sansa suddenly, ushering her gently from the turmoil of her heart into a dreamless sleep.

_______________

Sansa woke alone and cold, head throbbing with the aftereffects of the alcohol and the lack of water from the day before. She had been hopeful when she fell asleep. Hopeful that maybe things were going to change, that Margaery would stay, forever. But it didn’t look like that would be the case.

She rolled onto her side, facing the place where Margaery slept. Morning sunlight drifted through the windows, dust catching in the sunbeams. It seemed to highlight the emptiness beside Sansa. On the pillow beside her, was a piece of paper, folded into a crane. Sansa stared at it in the spotlight of the sun, unmoving for a long while. It wasn’t until she noticed that the paper was not blank, but had writing on the inside, that she reached for it.

She rolled onto her back, held the paper crane between her fingers above her. She felt like she was in a dream, each moment stretching out into an eternity. She felt still and empty, the only emotion in her mind the apprehension holding her back from unfolding the crane to read what was written on the inside. She knew that the moment she read those words everything would change. She wanted to linger in the present moment, the unknown, before everything inevitably crashed down. Like, maybe if she waited long enough, she would wake up from a dream and find Margaery beside her again, smiling at her and so very there.

But she knew this was no dream. She with steady hands she set about unfolding the crane, then holding the note in both hands above her head to read it.

Dearest Sansa,

Few things have pained me as much as writing these words to you. I do not want to write them. I want to stay beside you, hold you until you wake, and kiss you one more time. But I know the moment your eyes meet mine, my resolve will crumble and I will no longer be able to do what I must.

I am so sorry I have done this to you. I watched you fall for me and I did nothing to stop you. I heard the million tiny ways you told me your feelings, every glance and every small touch and every word, and I couldn’t utter my love when it counted. I couldn’t even bring myself to whisper, when I knew you needed it shouted. And now here I am, flying away while you sleep. You’ve become like a home to me, the first home I’ve had in… gods, too long.

But I said in the very beginning that you were not allowed to fall for me. I know you did not intend to, but I have to leave now. I cannot afford love. I can’t leave my job. I don’t have any other option. I am so sorry.

I cannot see you again. My heart aches to even write those words, but there is no other way. I am sorry.

-M

Sansa wanted to cry. She wanted to crumple the note and throw it across the room. She wanted to scream and rage and curse Margaery’s name. She wanted to throw things, to sob on the floor. To feel anything.

But she only felt numb. Because in her heart, she knew that this was always how it was going to end. It could never last. Like a rose, blooming brilliant and bright, but doomed to die eventually, she had always known what she had with Margaery would end. She had just hoped it would not have happened so quickly.

So Sansa stayed in bed all day. She laid awake, staring out the window, until the sunlight faded to dusk. She didn’t get up when hunger gnawed at her stomach or when her thirst seemed unbearable. She drifted in and out of sleep. When she was awake, memories of Margaery played on a loop in her mind’s eye. The way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. The pinch of her brows when she was focused on fucking Sansa hard and fast. The soft, soft skin of her shoulders, warm beneath Sansa’s lips. The sound of her voice, back when they used to talk together, and Sansa could manage to pull a rambling story from her. When she slept, her mind played their last night over and over on repeat. From Margaery’s repentant face outside her door to the way she begged for release over the back of the couch. From her weeping in Sansa’s arms to the gentle whisper of voice telling Sansa she wanted to stay in her arms forever.

That was the closest she got to feeling anything, when she would wake from those dreams. Her heart would beat faster, her gut dropping in fear as she remembered upon waking that she would never see Margaery again. In those moments, Sansa felt nausea roll her stomach into knots. She rolled over each time, trying to push the dreams from her mind, waiting until her body settled and the numbness came back.

Monday morning came, and still Sansa didn’t get out of bed. Around 10, she managed to stumble to the bathroom for the first time in hours. As she washed her hands, she refused to look at herself in the mirror, sure that she looked as worn and weary as she felt. She fell back into bed and slept until a pounding on her door woke her.

She ignored it. It was probably an Amazon delivery person. Or some take-out delivery at the wrong door. But that pound didn’t stop. And this time she heard her name being shouted.

“Fuck.” Sansa recognized that voice. It was Robb. And if Robb was at her door, that probably meant-

“Sansa, if you don’t open up, I’m going to let Arya climb the fire escape and break in your window!” Sansa groaned. Robb and Arya showing up at her door was not what she wanted to deal with. She pulled herself out of bed, slipping a robe on, and shuffled to the door. “I’m coming, just shut up!” she shouted.

When she opened the door, she barely even looked at Robb and Arya, who rushed inside after her, voices blurring together with their questions.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

“What is going on?”

“Are you sick? You look terrible.”

“You missed work, we thought you were dead!”

“Sansa, talk to us!”

But she didn’t say anything, only walked over to her bar cart and poured herself two fingers of whiskey and then sat on the couch.

Robb reached to take it from her hand, but Arya stopped him. Sansa was sure she was trying to get on her good side, get her to tell them what was going on. And maybe it was working. Arya glared at Robb, clearly trying to keep him quiet, and sat down next to Sansa.

“What’s going on, Sans?” Arya’s voice was calm and even, almost like she was scared. Sansa knew Arya hadn’t seen her like this since Joffrey. She wanted to feel bad for scaring them, she didn’t. She didn’t feel anything except the burn of the whiskey sliding down her throat and settling warm in her belly.

Arya looked up at Robb, pacing in front of the couch with his arms crossed, then back at Sansa. “Is this about Margaery?”

At the sound of her name, Sansa’s heart thawed, and everything that had been buried beneath the icy numbness thawed.

With a scream, she threw her whiskey glass across the room past Robb where it shattered against the wall, sending glass and liquor flying. Robb gasped and ducked, nearly falling on the floor. Arya jumped. Sansa’s scream morphed into a sob, and the tears finally came. SHe pulled her knees to her chest, and her vision blurred as the tears flowed freely. Arya, perpetually bad at comforting people, scooted away from Sansa and made room for Robb. Robb draped his arm over Sansa’s shoulders and pulled her into him.

As sobs wracked her chest, she leaned into Robb, curling into his chest. Robb held her tight, but didn’t say a word. She heard rustling, Aray cleaning up the mess she’d made. That was her way of comforting, taking care of the things that needed done in crisis.

Sansa did not know how long she cried, the pain of Margaery’s rejection hitting her like a freight train. Robb never let her go, murmurs of “It’s okay” and “We’re here” spoken in his soothing voice. When she finally stopped crying, Arya was by her side with a glass of water. She drank the entire thing in long deep gulps, realizing it was the first thing she’d had to drink in at least 36 hours.

“What time is it?” Sansa rasped, her voice hoarse from her crying.

“It’s 3:30 on Monday,” Arya said with a glance at her wristwatch. “What’s going on, Sans?” she asked again.

“Margaery left me,” Sansa breathed, tears threatening to fall again. “She’s gone.”

Robb and Arya exchanged a look, one that Sansa couldn’t quite read.

“Do you love her?” Robb asked gently, his arms still around her.

Sansa nodded slowly, biting her lip to stop the tears. She realized she had never told Margaery that, not in so many words. But somehow she still knew. Her letter said as much. She knew Sansa loved her and that’s why she couldn’t stay.

“I’m sorry, sis.” Arya climbing unto the arm of the couch next to her and took her hand. “I’m really sorry.”

“You owe me $20,” she heard Arya hiss over her head to Robb.

“Seriously??” she shouted, pushing Arya off the arm of the couch. Arya laughed and popped back up and sat next to her again. Sansa crossed her arms over her chest indignantly. “You’re such an ass!” she said.

“Sansa, come on.” Arya smiled at her. “I could see it from a mile away. I knew it was over after the other night at the club.”

“I really don’t want to talk about this,” Sansa moaned, dropping her head into her hands. “I really just want to be alone.”

“Is that why you didn’t come in to work today?” Robb asked.

Sansa nodded. “I just couldn’t get out of bed.”

“Well, you’re out of bed now,” Arya said. “And you really need a shower. You smell like alcohol and sweat.” Sansa shot a glare her way.

“I’m afraid Arya’s right, Sans,” Robb said. “Why don’t you go hop in the shower and Arya and I will figure something out for food. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten in a while.”

“Thanks,” Sansa mumbled as she climbed off the couch and made her way to the bathroom. This time she didn’t hide from her own reflection in the mirror. She looked like hell. Her eyes were red, her face tear-stained, and her hair in tangles. Definitely in need of a shower.

The hot water helped her maintain her focus on washing up, not letting her mind drift. She didn’t want to cry anymore.

By the time she dried off and dressed in some comfy sweats, she could smell pizza in the living room. She heard Robb and Arya arguing over what show to watch on Netflix, and she sighed in relief. She knew she would have to tell Arya everything later. She was sure that Robb had convinced Arya to give her some space. She smiled at the thought, more thankful than ever for her older brother. She would cross the conversation-with-Arya bridge later. In that moment, she was content to have her brother and sister there with her to help put her back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your incredible patience with me taking a long-ass time to post! I have not forgotten this story, and I miss writing it as much as y’all miss reading it. My life suddenly got fucking crazy, and I had literally 0 time to write. Plus my planned ending for this fic was making me mad so we switched directions. I hope I haven’t lost any of you! Happy Halloween!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time moves slowly when you’re heartbroken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, pals! We are nearing the end!! I wanted to give a content warning at the beginning because there is depiction of an attempted sexual assault in this chapter. I tried my best to keep it as detail-free as possible, but I wanted to give a fair warning so everyone had a heads up going in. If you want to skip over anything close to being detailed, you can read to the asterisks, and then skip to the next set of asterisks.
> 
> It’s a bit of heavy chapter, but then we just have one more until the end!
> 
> Enjoy!

Time moves slowly when you’re heartbroken. And Sansa felt the days were crawling by. Every day was a struggle. For the first few weeks, Arya had temporarily moved in with her. She made sure Sansa got out of bed in the morning, made her breakfast, drove her to work, brought her home. She forced Sansa to go on evening runs with her. She invited their brothers over regularly. She tried to make life as normal as possible for Sansa.

Arya was the only thing dragging her through the days. Without her, Sansa would have stayed in bed until she faded away into a memory. As it was, thought, Arya’s drive was enough to keep her trudging through.

Sansa thought about Margaery every single day. She cried about her. She threw things about her. She yelled at Arya about her. She got lost staring into space thinking about where she might be, what she might be doing. If someone else was loving her instead.

As time wore on, her anger subsided and the ache of longing replaced it. She did not want to scream, but she did wish she could send Margaery flowers every time she passed a florist. Every good meal made her wish she was sharing it with Margaery. When she smiled, she longed to see Margaery’s smile once again. And when the stress of work overwhelmed her, she wished she was going home to Margaery, to fall asleep in her arms.

Sansa found herself missing things that she had never even had with Margaery. She caught herself daydreaming about waking up beside her, or taking a picnic lunch to the park and napping on a blanket together. She felt her heart ached when the thought of Margaery sitting with her, watching movies on a Saturday night crossed her mind.

But as time passed, those constant thoughts of Margaery were less debilitating. She was strong enough to get herself up in the morning, feed herself, and make it to work on time. She was able to spend evenings alone without disintegrating into tears the moment she slowed down (usually).

When Arya moved out of her apartment, Sansa actually felt some relief. She loved her sister, and she was incredibly grateful for her, but she also loved her privacy. And a clean home. And an inanimate alarm clock that could be snoozed if she wanted just a little more sleep, not a human one that would throw the covers off her if she did not get up on time.

At work, she had struggled to focus on anything. She would break down in her office nearly daily. Robb asked her to help on some accounting projects, and while she understood that she wasn’t in the emotional position to be working with clients, she hated being sidelined.

In late April, nearly four months after Margaery had left her alone and broken, Sansa was finally back on a case. When she won, Robb and Arya took the whole Stark family out to dinner to celebrate. Sansa dressed up for the first time in months. Arya brought Gendry, and Bran and Rickon were enamored with him. He was a professional dirt bike racer, and since Arya rarely brought him around the family, the boys wouldn’t stop pestering him with questions.

“I think I’m going to ask him to marry me,” Arya whispered, leaning into Sansa’s side.

“Stop!” Sansa whisper-screamed. “Are you really? When? Are you serious?”

Arya just nodded and smiled, never taking her eyes on Gendry, who was imitating the rev of a bike engine while Rickon and Bran laughed on either side of him. “He’ll never ask. I’ve been telling him for our entire relationship that I had no interest in getting married. But now…. Now I can’t imagine a day of my life without him.”

Sansa squealed in delight, wrapping her arms around Arya. They laughed together. It felt good to have the family together, happy and full of love. It wasn’t until later, on her drive home, that Sansa realize her first thought at Arya’s news hadn’t been Margaery. She wasn’t sure whether she liked that or not.

_____________

“I think I’m getting over her,” Sansa told Arya at their weekly Sunday morning brunch date.

“Really?” Arya said, sitting up a little straighter and leaning forward. Sansa hadn’t spoken much about how she had been doing, and Arya wanted to soak up any information she could pull out of her.

“Yeah. I used to think about her every time I saw another couple in public. Or whenever I’d drive past that stupid expensive restaurant she took me to. I couldn’t go to art museums, because they made me think of her. Roses were enough to make me cry. But when you told me the other night at dinner that you wanted to marry Gendry… I didn’t even think about her until I got home.”

“Wow. How are you feeling about that?” Arya asked.

“I think I’m okay with it. I mean, that’s what I’ve been trying to do right? Get over her?” She slumped back in her chair. “It feels complicated. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. But it also feels a bit like… I don’t know, a betrayal?”

Arya cocked her head to the side in confusion, and Sansa pressed on.

“Like I loved her so much, you know? And it’s fading now. And a little part of me feels like I’m betraying her, betraying myself, by letting that fade. That if I stop feeling those feelings, that it means they weren’t real.” A shadow fell over Sansa’s face.

“I don’t think it means they weren’t real,” Arya offered. “It just means their time has passed. Like, I miss Dad, every day. But it doesn’t hurt so much anymore, you know? And I don’t think that means I didn’t love him enough or that it was fake. It just means that I’m healing. I know they’re not the same thing…. But I think that fading feelings part is similar. I don’t know, maybe I’m just talking out of my ass….”

“No, that makes sense. You’re right. Missing Dad doesn’t hurt so much anymore, but that doesn’t mean I care less. And I don’t love Margaery like I used to, but that doesn’t mean the love I felt before wasn’t real.”

“Exactly.” Arya took a bite of her breakfast and leaned back in her chair. She watched Sansa think, until finally a smile formed on her face.

“I think it feels good.” Her voice was nearly a whisper. “I feel freer.” 

Time is the great healer, Sansa thought to herself. Four months ago, she never imagined that she would be able to stitch her heart back together. But between Arya’s steadfast presence, Robb’s encouragement, the love of her family, and her own strength, Sansa had managed to piece her life back together, and actually be happy about it.

Why, then, was there still a tiny corner of her mind that wasn’t ready to give up on Margaery yet?

_____________

A week later, on Friday night, Sansa woke with a start to someone pounding on her door. She sat up, but didn’t get out of bed, waiting for another knock to be sure it wasn’t a dream. It was after midnight. No one should have been at her door.

When the person knocked again, she slipped out of bed to answer the door, wrapping her robe around herself as she made her way through her apartment.

“One second!” she shouted when there was another loud knock. Anxiety settled low in her stomach as she wondered to herself who it could possibly be. She looked about the peephole to see who was knocking. When she saw the figure outside the door, her heart sprung into her throat and she flung the door open without a second thought.

Margaery stood before her in a torn dress, tears running down her cheeks, sobs wracking her chest, looking disheveled as Sansa had ever seen… well, anyone.

Without a word, Margaery fell into Sansa’s arms, wrapping her arms around Sansa’s waist and pressing her face to her shoulder, tears falling onto Sansa’s robe. Sansa hesitated for only a moment before she was wrapping Margaery up in her arms, pulling her close and shutting the door behind them. She led Margaery to the couch, and they collapsed together onto the cushions, Margaery never once pulling away from Sansa.

It seemed to Sansa that she had only started crying harder after Sansa opened the door, and she felt tears of her own trailing down her face as fear gripped her heart. What could possibly have happened that would bring Margaery, sobbing, to Sansa’s doorstep over four months after she left her?

An answer would have to wait. Margaery nearly breathless between sobs. Sansa ran her fingers through Margaery’s tangled hair and murmured in her ear. “Shhh… It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe. It’s okay.” She rocked Margaery back and forth in her arms, keeping her own breath as steady as she could to guide Margaery’s own breathing.

Finally, Margaery’s tears subsided, and her breathing steadied. Sansa couldn’t hold back her fears any longer.

“What happened, Margaery?” she breathed into the other woman’s hair.

Margaery shuddered. “He wouldn’t stop.” Her voice shook, and all Sansa’s worst fears, the ones that she had been too scared to even think, were confirmed. Someone had hurt her. In the dim moonlight coming in through the window, Sansa could see the evidence. Margaery’s knees where skinned, her palms bloody, like she had fallen. There were bruises on her wrists. Sansa noticed that she wasn’t wearing any shoes. Rage began to boil up in Sansa, but Margaery's quivering voice kept her quiet.

“I said no,” she whispered. “I didn’t want it. He tried to…” Tears were sliding down her cheeks again, and though Sansa was nearly shaking with rage, she stayed quiet, only holding Margaery tighter.

“He must have thought since he was paying me he could do whatever he wanted. But I said no, and he-” Margaery’s exhaled sharply. “He tried… in the limo…. But I slipped out of his grasp and managed to jump out of the car and run.”

Hence the skinned knees and palms, Sansa thought to herself.

“I knew I couldn’t go home. He knew where I lived. You’re the only person I know that would help. The only person I could trust. His father… he’s the police chief.” Margaery’s voice broke, and she grasped at Sansa’s robe to pull her closer. “I’m so scared, Sansa.” She was crying again, and Sansa was seeing red.

“Wait, Chief Baratheon?” Sansa’s heart skipped a beat and her hands started to shake. “Your client’s father, is he Chief Baratheon?” No, no, no, Sansa thought. It couldn’t be.

“Yes.”

“Was your client’s name Joffrey?”

“Yes,” Margaery sobbed.

Sansa felt as if the floor had dropped out from under her. Joffrey Baratheon. That fucking bastard. Sansa had hoped and prayed that she would never have to hear his name again, that she would never have to face him. That he would never hurt another person again. She should have known his name would come back to haunt her.

“Margaery, I need to go get my phone,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’ll be right back, okay?” Margaery nodded, her tears slowing just a little, and Sansa disentangled herself from Margaery. She needed Arya. And she needed her immediately.

Arya answered on the first ring. “What’s wrong, Sansa?” Arya was clearly trying to sound awake, even though Sansa was sure her call had woken her.

“I need you to come over. Please.” Sansa didn’t think she could explain without breaking down.

“Okay, sis,” Arya said without hesitation. Sansa could hear the rustling of Arya pulling on clothes, Gendry’s murmured questions. “Do you need me to stay on the phone?”

“No, please just get here.” Sansa took a deep, steadying breath after she hung up, and made her way back to Margaery. She was lying on her side on the couch, curled up with her front pressed into the back of the couch. Sansa didn’t even have to think about it before she was lying down next to her, wrapping her arms around Margaery and pulling her close. Margaery rolled over in Sansa’s arms, pressing her face to Sansa’s neck and tangling their legs together.

A wave of emotion hit Sansa all at once. The deep longing that she had thought was in the past washed over her in an instant. It overwhelmed everything else, the anger and pain she felt on Margaery’s behalf, the fear, the anxiety. It was all lost beneath the weight of desire she felt for Margaery. It wasn’t even sexual, but a desire to be with her, constantly. Sansa thought it was gone, that she had moved past it. Clearly she was wrong.

A knock at the door made Margaery jump. Arya was through the door before Sansa could get up to answer the door. Though Sansa couldn’t see her, she was sure Arya could see that Margaery was there with her.

“Sansa, what in the hell is going on?” Arya hissed through her teeth.

Sansa didn’t respond to her. Instead she spoke to Margaery. “Marge, my sister Arya is here. She’s a lawyer, she’s going to help you, okay? Do you think you can sit up and tell her what happened?”

Arya stared hard at Sansa, but when Margaery sat up and started to speak she kept her mouth shut.

***************

“It started like any other evening,” she whispered. “We went to dinner. Established some rules. I knew he was going to be a… difficult client. He wanted power play and SM. I was willing to give it to him, but only with a safeword and his promise not to do anything on my ‘no’ list.”

Margaery reached for Sansa’s hand, squeezing it tight in her own.

“Dinner was fine, he didn’t say much outside of talking about his father, the police chief, and what he wanted to do in bed. I was uncomfortable, but I let him do it. He was paying me really well. Things started to go downhill when we left in his limo.” 

Margaery took a deep, shuddering breath. Sansa’s eyes never left her. She reached out to cover Margaery’s hand with her other hand, hold Margaery’s tight between her own. 

“You’re doing well, Marge,” she said. “Keep going.”

Margaery let out a breath. “He tried to kiss me. I told him to wait until we got to his place. He- took my hands and he- he held me down on the seat. He told me he wanted to…” A tear rolled down her cheek, and she shut her eyes tightly.

“He told me he wanted to penetrate me, anally. That’s one of my no’s, with men, especially when power play is involved.”

Sansa seethed, and when she glanced over to Arya, she could see her jaw clenched in anger.

Somehow, Margaery’s voice got steadier as she went on. “He grabbed my wrists and held me down. He pulled my dress up and started touching me, but when he started to undo his pants, I managed to wrestle free and open the door just as the car was pulling away from a light. I jumped out and ran. I ran for blocks until I was sure he wasn’t following me. I hailed a cab and came straight here.”

***************

Tears were falling down both Sansa’s and Margaery’s faces when Margaery finished, and Arya’s fists were clenched so tight her knuckles were white.

“Okay, so I’m going to ignore all the history you two have and deal with this,” she said. “So Sansa, you’re sure this is the same guy whole hurt you? Joffrey Baratheon?”

Sansa and Margaery both nodded. “I know it’s him. He bragged to me all the time about his dad being the police chief. It’s why I was too scared to confront him back then.”

Margaery narrowed her eyes at Sansa. “You’re telling me this same guy hurt you, too?”

Sansa nodded. “It was a long time ago,” she said softly. “It’s okay now.”

“It’s really not,” Arya said firmly. “As much as I would like to rip him to shreds over what he did to you Sansa, I can’t. But I can prosecute him for what he did to you, Margaery. But we need to get you to a doctor to document your injuries.” Her voice softened, then. “Is that, okay, Margaery? Can I take you to the hospital?”

“Yeah, we can do that,” Margaery said. “Sansa, you’re coming, right?”

“Of course, love,” Sansa said without thinking. “I’m not going anywhere.”

________________

It took a lot more convincing for Margaery to agree to talk to the police. She was as scared of Joffrey’s retaliation as Sansa had been. But with some gentle coaxing, and the promise that Margaery could stay with Sansa until the case was closed, she agreed.

Sansa knew it would be a long road to justice, but in her heart she knew that she would be by Margaery’s side every step of the way. It felt like fate had brought them back together. A twisted fate, perhaps, but fate nonetheless.

Sitting in the hospital room by Margaery’s side, listening to her give a statement to the police, fingers tangled with Margaery’s, she knew she wanted Margaery in her life forever. She would take whatever Margaery was willing to give her, even if it was only friendship.

But gods, did she hope Margaery still felt for her like she felt for Margaery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy! I’m sorry there’s been a lack of smut, here at the end, but I promise when I’m done with this story I’m gonna be working on some smutty Sansaery oneshots. Comments and kudos give me life! Even if I don’t reply, I read them all!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery faces everything that has happened since she came back into Sansa’s life, and how to go forward from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, hello!!
> 
> After a long creative dry spell, one sibling getting arrested, relationship struggles, a bout of depression, and getting diagnosed with anxiety, I FINALLY have a final chapter for you all! I tried my very best not to make it feel rushed, to give you and the characters the ending you deserve, and I hope you feel that. Much love, and enjoy.

Nine Months Later

Margaery stared up at the ceiling, eyes unseeing, pulse finally slowing for the first time since she’d heard the news. The trial was over, much faster than anyone had expected. It seemed that money could make anything happen, and the Starks and the Baratheons had plenty. Margaery was thankful that the Starks hadn’t been afraid to back down in the face of another powerful family.

Joffrey was going to jail. Arya hadn’t lied when she told Margaery all those months ago that she was going to make sure that Joffrey went to prison. They had refused a plea deal, and Arya had worked her ass off to gather all the evidence she needed put him behind bars. It turned out there had been a policy camera posted at the intersection where Margaery had managed to escape that showed her jumping out of the car in a torn dress. And with a little pressure and a lot of money and promises of protection, Joffrey’s drive was persuaded to take the stand and tell the court what had happened. When Joffrey had to take the stand, Arya had destroyed him, and she had torn his lawyer to shreds in both her opening and closing statements.

It hadn’t all been easy. Margaery had known it wouldn’t be. Going up against the police chief’s family in court was a bold move. She’d suffered through a rigorous cross-examination from Joffrey’s lawyer, one that tried to drag her through the mud for being an escort. She had prepared thoroughly with Arya and Sansa, but she hadn’t been prepared for the flashbacks that getting on the witness stand had triggered.

(She thanked the gods for Sansa. Without her arms around her those few nights after taking the stand, she wouldn’t have been able to sleep. Without Sansa’s hand in hers when she tried to leave the house, she doubted she would have been able to go outside alone. Without Sansa’s voice in her ear, steadying, reminding her she was safe, she never would have been able to make it through the ten day trial. Sitting at home with Sansa, waiting and waiting and waiting, knowing what was happening at the courthouse, had been excruciating.)

But it was finally over. Joffrey was going to prison, though for only 15 years with a chance for parole. He had been forced to pay her a large sum of money for the pain and suffering she had gone through, nearly a quarter of a million dollars. She would be able to take an indefinite amount of time to restart her life, find a new profession, recover. She was free. Finally, really, free.

(Even if, or when, Joffrey got out of prison, Margaery was fairly certain that the Stark brothers had made some less-than-well-veiled threats about what would happen to him next time he dared to hurt someone like he hurt Margaery.)

Laying on the guest bed in Sansa’s flat, following the patterns in the textured ceiling with her eyes, Margaery couldn’t stop the racing thoughts and feelings going through her mind, couldn’t stop playing the past nine months over and over in her mind.

When Margaery had shown up at Sansa’s door that terrible night, she had half expected Sansa to shut the door in her face. She would have deserved it. She had run out and left Sansa with barely an explanation, and what she did say was barely the truth. She knew, crying and stumbling to Sansa’s door, that it was possible Sansa would want nothing to do with her. Margaery had steeled herself for rejection, dried her tears and tried to act strong.

The moment Sansa had opened the door, she crumbled. The sobs came instantly, and she all but fell into Sansa’s arms. And Sansa had held her without a question. As she stumbled through the story, Sansa never let her go. When Arya came, and she had to tell them the details she had already been trying to forget, Sansa never let her go. When Margaery cried herself to sleep on the couch, head on Sansa’s shoulder, Sansa had never let her go.

The next day, Sansa had sent her assistant to Margaery’s apartment to retrieve everything she needed. It hadn’t even been a question of whether or not Margaery could stay with her. Sansa had offered without question. Told Margaery really. Margaery smiled at the memory.

She had woken lying on the couch, blanket draped over her, and a cup of still-steaming coffee on the table in front of the couch. As she stretched and sat up, Sansa stepped from the kitchen with her own mug of coffee.

“I know it’s early, but I was wondering if you happen to have your apartment keys on you.” She spoke softly as she sat down in the chair next to Margaery.

Margaery’s just nodded, reaching for her purse.

“I’m sending someone over to your place to gather all of your things. Toiletries, clothes, anything you might need for the next while. Is there anything in particular you can think of that you might want to have here?” She spoke so gently, like she was trying not to spook Margaery. It brought tears to Margaery’s eyes.

“Just… just my clothes. Everything from the bathroom. There’s a small lockbox under the bed, if they could bring that,” Margaery mumbled. She pulled her feet up onto the couch, tucking her knees under her chin as the tears began to spill down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry for… for all this,” she managed to whisper.

In an instant, Sansa was by her side, wrapping her in a hug and pulling her close.

“Oh, Marge,” Sansa murmured into her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m going to take care of you. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to put him away, I promise. And you’ll be safe here with me until then.”

It had been those words that had helped Sansa convince Margaery that she could go to the hospital and the police. She knew that she needed to let them look at her, examine her for evidence. When she thought about doing all of that alone, she couldn’t handle it. But with Sansa at her side, she managed.

By the time they made it back to Sansa’s place, Margaery was mentally and emotionally exhausted. She stayed in bed for days after, barely able to get up to talk to Arya and Rob when they came to talk to her about the case.

Thinking back, Margaery could hardly recall how she had muddled through those first few months before the trial began. Time. Counseling. Sleep. Time. Mostly time. It had taken patience and guts and drive. And Sansa.

Margaery smiled at the ceiling. She couldn’t have done it without Sansa. For weeks, she had brought Margaery all her meals in bed. She let Margaery into her bed every night she had nightmares. She held her hand through counseling sessions, never speaking, only listening. Her rock. Her steady. Her constant support.

Through it all, Sansa never spoke of what they had been. She never mentioned the letter. She never talked about the almost five months they didn’t speak to each other. But Margaery could see it sometimes, in her eyes. At first, it looked like pain. When she thought Margaery couldn’t see her, she would get this heartbroken look in her eyes, but it was always gone as quick as it came. Like a slip in Sansa’s mask.

Eventually, it became something else, though. A fondness. A soft glance that she never seemed to want Margaery to catch. But she did sometimes. When Sansa would bring her coffee to her in the morning, or when Margaery would laugh at one of Arya’s jokes. Sometimes Margaery saw it when they walked through the grocery store together, when Margaery would put Sansa’s favorite cereal in the grocery cart. Margaery only rarely saw it, but when she did, it made her blush and look away quickly.

They fell into a rhythm, those months leading up to the trial. When Sansa went to work, on the mornings Margaery had slept in her bed, she would go back to her own bed, sleep until the sun pouring in her window wouldn’t let her sleep any longer. She would clean, do the dishes, or the laundry, or whatever needed done. She took up cooking, learning Sansa’s favorite foods and cooking dinner for her every day.

(Margaery told herself it was to repay Sansa for taking care of her, for letting Margaery live with her during the trial. But she knew it was more. She knew there was a small part of her that did it for the way Sansa’s eyes would light up when she walked in the door and smelled rosemary, or lemon, or garlic. For the smile on her face when Margaery set a plate before her and poured her a glass of wine. For the gentle way she said, “Thank you, Marge,” before she ate. Every single time.)

There had been a time when Margaery would have gagged at the thought of such domesticity. But Sansa…. Sansa’s care for her made Margaery want to do absolutely anything she could to show Sansa the same care. Her heart felt something for Sansa she hadn’t felt before, not even all those months ago before she had run out. This was something… solid. Something real. If she thought about it too much, it might scare her.

But there was too much else to worry about for Margaery to think too much about Sansa. When the trial came, and everything got hard again, Margaery was back to barely holding it together. Seeing Joffrey when she took the witness stand, suffering through a degrading and embarrassing questioning. Arya had done her best to soothe her during the cross, but it didn’t stop Margaery from crawling into bed the moment she was back home. Into Sansa’s bed.

That’s where she stayed for the rest of the trial. Sansa was there with her as often as she could be, holding her tight, whispering encouragement in her ear. Margaery reveled in the security of it, of being somewhere that felt safe. That felt like home. Sansa felt like home. Sansa was her safe place, and she didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to leave.

Now that it was over, she had to think about those things. About those feelings. About what had happened between them over a year ago. The way she had left. Everything that she felt now. Margaery had never been good with feelings. It wasn’t that she didn’t have them. Her feelings were always so strong, she feared she would scare people away. Her anger burned hot and fast. Her sadness was deep and lasting. And her love was fierce and instaitable. She had spent her whole life afraid that no one could feel for her what she knew she could feel for someone else.

After the fire, Margaery shut down. She vowed to never feel for anyone again, because she couldn’t bear to suffer loss like that again. She shut herself off from everyone, became an expert in giving people what they wanted while keeping her own heart locked safely away.

Until Sansa. Sansa wanted something from her that no one had wanted except her family: just herself. Sansa wanted to know her. No one had wanted to know much more than directions to the hotel she had booked for them in longer than she could remember. Sure, some seemed to feign interest, asking her about herself in the quiet of the afterglow. But they were shallow questions, borne out of obligation.

Perhaps that was why she ran so fast from Sansa all those months ago. Because she had snuck her way in between the cracks in Margaery’s veneer in a way none of the men she had been with before could. Sansa had reached for the hidden parts of Margaery, her interests, her desires, her passions. She had seen Margaery as she was, even the moments she was broken, and Sansa had wanted her anyway. When Margaery realized that, she fell so hard and so fast there was no going back.

She had said she was jealous, seeing Sansa with someone else. That she had never seen one of her clients out with someone else before. But that was a lie. She had. She’d just never cared for someone enough to be bothered. And when Sansa had taken her back, taken all of her… it was too much. She let her mask fall long enough to be honest with Sansa, and then in the quiet of her room, while Sansa slept, in all crashed down on her.

Margaery couldn’t stop the thoughts that rushed at her that night, when she woke later in Sansa’s arms.

“You’re broken.”

“You’re selfish.”

“You’ll never be good enough for her.”

“She doesn’t love you.”

“She doesn’t want you.”

“You’re a dirty whore, and she is too good for you.”

“She doesn’t want you.”

“She doesn’t want you.”

She had let those thoughts get the better of her. Before she lost her nerve, she slipped from Sansa’s grasp, from her room, from her life. And she never thought she’d come back.

But she did. And she knew she owed Sansa a reason. Even a year later.

A knock at the bedroom door startled her, shaking her from her thoughts. She sat up just as Sansa peeked through the crack in the door, worry on her face.

“Sorry to bother you, I just- I know you said you need some time alone, but you’ve been in here a long time and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her voice was low and soft, like she was nervous to startle Margaery. Margaery couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s okay, actually. I was about to come find you.” Margaery patted the bed next to her and Sansa sat.

“How are you feeling?” Sansa asked, reaching to take Margaery’s hand. Margaery couldn’t help but wonder if Sansa felt the same spark she did.

Margaery sighed and her smile grew. She squeezed Sansa’s hand in her own. “Free,” she said. “I feel free.”

Sansa was practically glowing. Her smile made Margaery melt, and she knew then that she was done. Again.

“I’m so happy,” Sansa said, and even if Margaery hadn’t been able to see her face, she would have heard the smile on her lips. “I’m just, truly so happy that this is all over and that you’re free again.”

“Sansa, I have to say something,” Margaery spit out. She knew if she didn’t do it right then, when all the feelings were so close to the surface, that she might never do it.

“What is it?” Sansa asked, her face falling at Margaery’s serious tone.

Margaery took a deep breath. She hadn’t really meant to say that. To try to bring it up. But her heart was working faster than her brain, it seemed. Her heart couldn’t take it any longer, and her brain hadn’t been able to stop the words coming from her mouth. She wasn’t sure what she was about to say, but she knew it needed to be said.

“I am so sorry. For the letter. For a year ago.”

Sansa pulled her hand from Margaery’s like she’d been burned. “Marge… Don’t-”

“No, Sansa, please, let me finish.” Margaery couldn’t slow down, or she’d lose her nerve. “I am sorry for everything. For the way I acted at the club. For leaving in the middle of the night. For not speaking to you for months. I am so sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever made a bigger mistake in my life.” She looked at Sansa, willing her to meet her gaze, but Sansa was staring at her own hands, tangled in her lap.

“I know that you’ve probably long since moved past it all, but I… I needed to apologize. And I also need to tell you that I never lied to you. About any of it. What I was feeling. I cared about you so much. I didn’t ever want to leave you. But I woke up in the middle of the night and, well, it all came crashing down.”

Sansa looked up at her then, brow furrowed in confusion. Margaery felt the urge to tear her gaze away, but she refused.

“I knew I could never be good enough for you. I’m broken. Dirty. I’m used up and worthless and you- Sansa, you are just, you’re royalty. You’re beautiful, and you’re kind. You’re generous and compassionate, and you listen. You don’t just listen, you hear me. You know me. And I am a whore. I could never be worthy of you, and I knew it. So I left. And it was the hardest thing I have ever done.”

She couldn’t look at Sansa any longer. She ducked her head, and that’s when she felt the tears slipping down her own cheeks. She took a deep breath, and then another, willing herself to stay strong and finish what she had to say.

“I was miserable for four months. I cried every day, I could barely eat. But I told myself it was better this way, to hurt you a little now, when you could recover, than to let you get closer and see how fucked up I am. But when Joffrey-” A shudder rocked her frame, and Sansa’s hand was on her knee, steadying her.

“When everything happened, you were the only person I could think of. Only you. I needed to see you. I knew you could make me feel safe. You always made me feel safe. You were my home. And I fucked it all up.” The tears were coming in full force, then.

“I know you’re probably past it. You probably moved on. I mean, you’ve been nothing but kind to me since I got her. So, I’m sorry if this is just awkward now, but… I had to tell you. I had to say I’m sorry. I love-”

Margaery stopped herself before she could finish her thought. Her eyes darted up to meet Sansa’s. What she saw there was more than she could have imagined.

Tears filled Sansa’s eyes, her mascara running just a little. But there was that look Margaery had sworn she’d caught a glimpse of, that fondness. That soft gaze, that Margaery only ever saw directed at her. And she was smiling. Smiling! How could she be smiling? Was she thinking that Margaery was stupid? Foolish for bringing it up when it had been so long buried?

Then hands were on her cheeks, Sansa’s hands. Margaery reached up to hold tight to her wrists.

“Oh, Margaery,” she said through tears, voice barely a whisper. It was like seeing the sun shining in the midst of a rainstorm, somehow happy and sad all at the same time. “I love you, too.”

“What?” Margaery dropped her hands and pulled away. “What did you say?”

“Marge, I love you. I have for so long.” Sansa’s voice got stronger with each word she said. “FOr months, I couldn’t understand why you did it. Why you left. I couldn’t figure it out. I had thought you really cared for me. But when you left, I assumed I had been wrong, that you were just letting me believe that so I would keep paying you.”

“I would never-” Margaery interrupted, crying and reaching for Sansa’s hands again.

“I know, love, I know. But I didn’t know what else to think. And I had to make up something to be able to move on. But when you came back, and the way you came back… It all hit me again. How much I care about you. But I couldn’t do anything about it. You were hurting, and lost, and you needed a friend. You didn’t need me pining over you again, not with all that had happened. So I’ve been waiting here, hoping. Wishing for you to feel what I was feeling.”

“I do feel it, Sansa,” Margaery said, stepping close, pressing herself to Sansa and slipping her arms around her waist.

“I know now, love. I know now.” Sansa pressed her forehead to Margaery’s, one hand on her hip, and the other tangled in her hair.

“I’m sorry, Sansa. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“I’m just glad you made it to me,” Sansa whispered against her cheek.

They stood still for a long time. Margaery’s heart was beating so fast she was sure Sansa had to be able to feel it. Sansa loved her. After all this time. Sansa still cared.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, Marge,” Sansa breathed. “I’ve wanted to you to be mine from the beginning. I told myself for so long that you weren’t mine to have, that you couldn’t belong to me. But now,I just- I want to know that you want this, too. That you want me.”

Margaery pulled back and looked into her eyes again. All the want, all the need, all the love was right there, staring back at her. Of course she wanted Sansa. Of course she did.

“Of course I want you, little bird,” she said finally. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Sansa leaned in, her nose grazing Margaery’s. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Margaery breathed. 

When their lips met, Margaery melted. Sansa tasted of salt and heat and lemon, her lips soft beneath Margaery’s. Margaery pulled Sansa close, pressed fully against her. In that moment, she wished to go back in time and take back her stupid rule about not kissing. If she had known what kissing Sansa felt like, she never could have left.

Sansa’s hand came up to Margaery’s cheek, and her tongue grazed Margaery’s lip. A groan slipped from Margaery’s lips, and Sansa’s seized the opportunity to taste her mouth. Her tongue slipped against Margaery’s, and it was like fireworks. Like warm sunlight on her skin after a long, cold winter. Margaery gasped and pulled back.

Both women were breathing heavy, eyes dark and hungry.

“I couldn’t have left you if I had known kissing you would be like that,” Margaery breathed against her lips.

“Well, now you know. So. You can’t leave again.” Margaery could feel Sansa’s smile against her lips.

“Never. I’m never leaving again.” Margaery said. And in that moment she knew. She had never meant anything as much as she meant those words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s all, folks! I burned out a bit on the end of this, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to do any one shots of their relationship post-Joffrey, but you never know it could happen.
> 
> If you’ve been following my inspiration for this story, it’s been the song Shrike by Hozier. Especially the line “I couldn’t utter my love when it counted / Oh, but I’m singing like a bird ‘bout it now”
> 
> I hope you loved this story as much as I did. There will be more from me in the future! If you have ideas for scenes you’d like to see or one-shots you might like me to write, drop them in the comments and I’ll see what I can do.
> 
> Love you all!! Especially my day-one-readers. Y’all are the reason I finished this. I hope you liked it.


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, hello. It *has* been over a year since I updated this, and yet here I am. A brief epilogue because you deserve it during these shit times. Maybe, if you're good, I'll post some kind of sequel to this. (Now, don't get too excited, it's not too long. But I think you'll enjoy it.) A couple more tags were added, so keep an eye out for those. I love you all, and this fic has been the most fun I've ever had writing something. I hope this brings even a little smile to your face in these end times.

3 Years Later

Sansa’s knees ached, and her jaw was sore, but when she looked up at Margaery’s face, her absolutely blissed out look, there was no way she was going to stop. Margaery’s strap slipped in and out of her mouth, nudging the back of her throat as Margaery thrust wantonly. If Sansa’s hands hadn’t been tied behind her back, her fingers would have been grasping at Margaery’s thighs, trying to pull her closer. From the way Margaery was grinding against her face, she could tell she was getting close. Sansa relaxed her throat, opening up from Margaery even more. She moaned around her cock, practically begging her to go deeper, to fill her up.

“Fuck,” Margaery sighed. “Fuck, baby, I’m going to come. I’m going to come in your mouth.”

That was all the warning Sansa got before the hand on the back of her head pulled her close, her nose brushing Margaery’s pelvis as Margaery came hard against the base of the strap. Moans tumbled from her lips as she rocked against the strap, and Sansa moaned with her, eyes never leaving Margaery’s face.

When she slowed and pulled out, Sansa gasped, a line of spit connecting Sansa’s mouth to the tip of the strap. Her chest heaved as she breathed deeply, but she was smiling.

“Gods, I love it when you do that,” she whispered, voice gravelly from the rough treatment her throat had just endured.

“As much as you love it when I fuck your cunt?” Margaery smiled down at her.

“Not quite, love,” she sighed.

“Well, good, because I really need to fuck you now,” Margaery growled as she lifted Sansa bodily to her feet. “How are your hands?” she asked softly when Sansa was at eye level with her.

“Good, love,” Sansa moaned. “Please, please fuck me.”

“Greedy,” Margaery growled again, breath hot against Sansa’s ear. In only a moment, Margery turned her and led her the three steps to the bed, helped her onto her knees, then pressed her shoulders into the mattress. With both hands on her hips, she pulled Sansa up, lining her strap up with Sansa’s dripping pussy.

“Ready for daddy’s cock, baby?” Margaery asked, fingers flexing on Sansa’s hips.

Sansa wiggled her ass and moaned. “Yes, daddy, please!”

In one swift thrust, Margaery filled her, and Sansa let out a deep, low moan. Immediately, Margaery was thrusting hard into her, thighs slapping against Sansa’s ass. Sansa was lost in it. She couldn’t tell if she ever stopped moaning, sighing, “Yes, daddy,” and “deeper” and “fuck me” and “please please pleasepleaseplease.”

Neither of them lasted long, Margaery grinding her own orgasm out only moments after Sansa’s took her voice away. Before Sansa was fully back to herself, Margaery had untied her and rolled her onto her back. She was wiping at Sansa’s pussy with a warm, wet washcloth, whispering soothing words Sansa couldn’t quite make out. A few moments later, Margaery’s warm body was pressed up against Sansa’s, and she turned on her side so Margaery could spoon her properly.

“I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow,” Sansa thought she heard her say, but she couldn’t be sure, and she was asleep before she could respond.

_______________

Their wedding day was a flurry of activity. By 9am, the Stark family has spent into their house and pulled them in two different directions, Arya and Robb taking Sansa to their parent’s house to get ready, and Jon and Rickon hauling Margaery to Jon’s house for the same reason. Bran and Gendry (who had been married to Arya just the year before) were sent to collect flowers and a cake and get them safely to the Catelyn at the Stark house.

Sansa felt as if her family was somehow more excited for this wedding than she was, and she was very excited. Catelyn hovered around her all morning, and Sansa had to shoo her away from trying to tell her hairstylist how to fix her hair. She checked and double-checked that Sansa’s clothes and shoes were there, and she called the wedding planner (who was not meant to arrive until noon) at least four times. When Gendry and Bran finally arrived with flowers and cake, Catelyn finally let Sansa have some peace while her makeup was being done.

Robb and Arya were set to stand on her side, and Jon and Rickon where standing with Margaery. Over the past three years, Margaery had become fully a part of the Stark clan, but she had forged a special connection with Jon and Rickon. When she asked them if they would stand with her on their wedding day, they had both joyfully agreed. Sansa was overjoyed that her brothers were so fond of Margaery as to be by her side.

An hour before the ceremony was supposed to start, Robb, Arya, and Sansa put on their suits. It had been quite an argument with Catelyn over whether or not Sansa would wear a suit to her wedding. But when Sansa had seen the glint in Margaery’s eye the when she mentioned that she might like to wear a suit, no one could stop Sansa from wearing it. She had agreed to white, though, to appease her mother.

Everything from then on was a blur, until Sansa found herself at the end of the aisle. When the wedding march played and their guests stood, and Margaery stepped around the corner, Sansa lost her breath.

Sansa could have notice her dress, or the flowers she held, or the little rosebuds braided into her hair. But she couldn’t take her eyes off Margaery’s face, their eyes locked the first moment they saw each other. Tears sprang to her eyes immediately.

“That’s my wife.” She didn’t realize she had said it out loud until she heard her brothers and sister chuckling around her. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to run down the aisle and walked arm in arm with Margaery the rest of the way.

Sansa was sure Bran was an excellent officiant, though she heard none of what he said, so distracted she was by Margaery’s beauty. Her hands shook as she reached into her breast pocket at Bran’s prompting to take out the vows she had written.

“My dearest Margaery, I feel like I have waited for this day for my whole life. I have never met a woman more captivating, more honest, more kind, or more beautiful than you. When you came into my life, I never expected that meeting you would change my life. But it did. You make me happy in ways I didn’t know I could be happy. You believe in me. You treasure me. You take care of me. You are better to me than I could ever deserve.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. And today we get to promise each other forever. That’s what I’m promising you today. I am not promising perfection. I am not promising an easy life. But I am promising forever. I will never stop loving you. I will never stop protecting you. I will never stop cherishing you until the day my heart stops beating. You are it for me. I love you.”

Margaery was weeping softly, and Jon handed her his handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes, and then took the written vows her offered her.

“I knew I was never going to be able to follow that up. You’re too eloquent,” she said, laughing. Sansa laughed with her, eyes soft.

“Sansa, you are what I didn’t know was missing from my life. I had spent so long alone that I didn’t know how to love and be loved by someone else. But you taught me so graciously, so generously, so patiently. You waited out my stubbornness, and you loved me when I didn’t know how to love you back. Thank you for waiting for me. Thank you for caring for me. Thank you for holding me close even when I pushed you away.

“Today I promise to love you forever. It is promise that is easy to make, because you make it so easy to keep. I love you more than I have ever loved, and will ever love. You are my sun, my little bird. Forever.”

Sansa couldn’t stop herself from taking Margaery’s face in both her hands and pulling her into a kiss.

“Okay, not quite yet!” Bran shouted, pulling them apart. The guests laughed, and Margaery laughed too, head thrown back, and clapping her hands together. Sansa couldn’t stop smiling.

_______________

Later, on the dance floor, the slow songs long exchanged for bassy, grinding songs, Margaery and Sansa found themselves in each others arms.

“Can I just say, one more time, that you made a spectacular choice with this suit?” Margaery said, hips pressed close to Sansa’s.

“You can say it as many times as you like, wife.” Sansa pressed a quick kiss to her neck, drawing a hiss from Margaery.

“Our guests probably think that means that you’re the top in this marriage,” Margaery murmured in her ear. “Little do they know.” In one swift movement, Margaery spun Sansa and pressed her herself close to Sansa’s back.

“Not any of them who really know me,” Sansa said over her shoulder with a laugh. “I think the phrase the kids use now is ‘butch bottom.’”

Margaery laughed, sliding both her hands to Sansa’s hips. They had both had enough to drink they didn’t care who watched them, bodies pressed together in a decidedly sexual way. Margaery pulled Sansa’s hips into hers, grinding against her ass.

“I don’t know, Sans, I might just let you top me if you wore that suit to the bedroom.” Margaery nipped at Sansa’s ear. “Especially if you were packing in those deliciously well-tailored pants.”

Sansa turned in Margaery’s arms, pressed her lips to Margaery’s throat. “I think that could be arranged.”

Margaery pulled away suddenly, clearing her throat loudly. “Alright everybody!” she shouted over the music, making Sansa jump. “The brides are leaving now! Goodnight, everyone!” Sansa blushed all the way up to her ears. Arya wolf-whistled, Jon and Robb cheered, and Sansa was sure she could hear Catelyn somewhere saying, “For Gods’ sakes.” But Margaery’s grip on her hand was firm, the smirk on her face enough to make Sansa forget anyone else was even there.

“Come on, little bird. Let’s get home so you can show me what you’ve got.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all, and you're the thing that keeps bringing me back to this fic. Thank you for your support. I hope you enjoyed the ride. ;)


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